And Truth Be Told
by mur xo
Summary: Ron and Hermione's married life. A baby was the one thing they both wanted. It happened to also be the hardest thing to get.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** I still don't own a thing. I don't own the characters, the plot, or the magic. If I had a mind as creative as that then I wouldn't be wasting my time writing fan fiction. I only play with the Wizarding World for awhile before handing it back to Rowling for safe keeping.

**Author's Note: **So, I've decided to make a fan fiction based mainly on Ron and Hermione's early years. Of course, there will be a good portion of Harry and Ginny in there as well. I don't know if I like this idea or not, as it is very different from what I am used to writing. It will largely be based on Hermione and her desire to become a mother. Please read it, at least, and let me know if you have any suggestions. Thanks.

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**COULD'VE LOVED YOU ALL MY LIFE**

**CHAPTER ONE**

_"And so it begins..."_

"I told you, I'm not hungry."

For the fourth time that morning, Hermione Weasley declined the plate her husband was trying to shove in her face. Instead, her hands fumbled with the morning paper, opening the crisp pages with a deafening snap, just in case her husband didn't get the message that she was in a terrible mood.

"I know, I know," Ron's reply was smooth and gentle, the hand that wasn't clutching the plate held up in front of him, in an attempt to placate Hermione. "It's just some toasted bread and a little eggs. Just a few bites, c'mon," he said coaxingly, trying to get something into his infuriating wife's stomach.

"I said I wasn't hungry, _Ronald_."

At the sound of his full name barked in such a huffed manner, Ron looked up towards the ceiling for inspiration. Not finding any, he closed his eyes and placed the plate onto the bathroom sink counter, before crouching down next to Hermione on the cool tile of the bathroom floor.

She merely tilted her head in his direction and raised an eyebrow, before turning her attention back to the article she was perusing.

"I'm not eating."

"Fine."

Hermione looked up at him, her eyes dangerously narrowing. She tossed her unruly curls off to one side, gathering them into a ponytail with her hand. She looked menacingly, from the plate of warm food that her husband had slaved to make, to Ron himself, who was looking decidedly more anxious the more his wife stared.

"Why are you still in here?"

She asked pointedly, her head cocking towards the door, in an obvious display that she would have liked nothing better than for him to leave her alone.

"I'm not just going to let you sit here and be sick all alone."

Hermione would have thought that sentiment to be very sweet, had she not been three months pregnant and experiencing awful morning sickness. Ron had grown used to the verbal abuse by now, and as a result he was even becoming suave, a word that certainly had never been used in conjunction with Ronald Weasley's persona.

"Really, I insist," she muttered softly, trying to persuade him.

"I'll leave if you eat a few bites of toast."

"Oh, for Merlin's sake, Ron!"

Leaning over her husband, Hermione reached for the plate and grabbed a piece of toast, shoving it in her face. She took a few bites, her face considerably losing its color the more food she consumed.

Each bite was a solid, sharp chew, the sound of tooth clashing with tooth amplified by the tile lining the bathroom walls. Hermione deliberately took her time chomping and swallowing, making sure Ron knew she was surely mocking him. A quick glance at her husband led her to believe that he was clueless to her continued displeasure, or rather, he was pretending to act in ignorance to avoid a fight that would surely ensue if he brought the fact up.

A freckled hand was placed on the small of Hermione's back, warm fingers rubbing in a comforting circular motion. Ron reached up and brushed a stray curl out of his wife's face, his body angling so he could look into the chocolate eyes. His brow was wrinkled and his forehead was creased with lines of concern as he tried to assess Hermione's wellbeing.

"Are you going to be sick?" He asked her softly, his hand rubbing against the scratchy fabric of her sweater more firmly, as if the small act of kindness would make her feel less ill.

Instead of being met with a nod, or the shake of a head, Ron was leveled with a vicious glare, one that would normally have him running in the direction of the closest door.

"If I knew when I was going to be sick, _dear_, do you think that I would be leisurely spending my Saturday morning on the bathroom floor, with my legs wrapped intimately around the toilet?"

At the sound of silence, Hermione nodded her head once, and turned her attention back to her morning paper, apparently satisfied with her husband's lack of response.

Ron shrugged his shoulders and let his hand stop rubbing, merely settling it to rest against her. He noticed with ironic appreciation that she was still nibbling on the piece of toast, even though a good half of it was already gone. Perhaps that was what Hermione had needed all morning to get her started, a bone to pick, a fight to pursue. If badgering Hermione until she picked up food was what would get her to eat, then Ron was well prepared to weather the storm and badger all day. After all, it wasn't just for Hermione's wellbeing, but for the health of his first child as well.

"Uh… Ron…?"

"Yes, 'Mione?"

"I think… I'm going…"

At his wife's sudden tilt towards the toilet bowl, Ron recognized what she had been trying to suggest. His eyes widened as he watched his wife's back heave and the repugnant smell of sick up filled the tiny bathroom. Once again, Ron moved his hand up and down Hermione's back, the movement less controlled now. Instead of small circles, his palm was moving quickly and firmly, trying to cover the whole of her back in as brief pats as possible.

He waited patiently, taking his free hand and grabbing Hermione's hair from her much loosened hold on it. Her back kept twitching, her adam's apple bobbing dangerously, a sign which meant that she was sure to be sick again.

"It's okay, Hermione, it'll be okay," Ron offered hurriedly, not sure if reassurance was even what Hermione was looking for. At the very least, it was something, and comfort wasn't exactly something Ronald Weasley was graciously gifted with.

Hermione rocked onto her knees, so she could better grip the toilet, before throwing up the small amount of food that had previously resided in her stomach into the toilet bowl once again. A wince came from Ron, as he knew how much worse it would have been had Hermione had nothing at all in her stomach to dispose of. For once, Ron had behaved rationally, instead of the other way around.

She turned her face to him, silent tears tracking down her pale cheeks, her lower lip quivering. Merlin, he absolutely hated seeing her like this. Ron felt immensely guilty because he was part of the cause of her pain. His Hermione was an incredibly strong woman, but whenever she threw up, she would cry. The first time Ron had witnessed it himself, he'd been absolutely mortified and hadn't a clue as to what he should to do. But now, with a few years practice, Ron was fairly good at calming his wife down.

"Shush now," Ron murmured softly, placing his arms around his wife's waist and pulling her up with him. Immediately he enveloped her in a hug, stroking her hair as he normally did after a bout of morning sickness. It was eerie, how well he had adapted to taking care of her like this.

It lasted for a moment, as it always did, before she pulled away with a start. A hand swiped anxiously at her cheeks to scrub away any evidence that she had been crying, and she trailed out of the bathroom.

"I'm fine. Did you eat breakfast already?"

The question was only there to make her feel secure again, to make Hermione feel like she was still the same level headed independent woman she had always been.

Of course Ron had already eaten. He had cooked himself some toast and eggs when he had prepared her some breakfast. He didn't want to disappoint his wife, nor make her feel useless, so instead, he shook his head.

"I'm starving," he replied with a jovial smile and a hand over his lean stomach.

A small smile was exchanged between the couple, as Ron played along, and Hermione hurried off to clean herself up and make breakfast. They supposed they would just have to get used to this new way of life; at least for the next six months or so. Not that either really minded, too much, for the result was far better than anything they could imagine.

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A sudden wetness enveloped Ron as he unconsciously leaned in to spoon against Hermione. They had both gotten to bed rather early, as they were both plenty exhausted. Ron was very familiar with his sleeping patterns, with his wife's sleeping patterns, and he could tell, even in his sleepy state, that something was decidedly off.

He brought his hand up from under the blankets and brought it over to the alarm clock, where the greenish blue light would allow him to see better. The fluid on his hand was a crimson color, and sickeningly, Ron recognized it as blood. Without a second thought, he snapped on the bedside light and jumped out of bed, flinging the bed sheets aside. A large puddle of blood stained the sheets, pooling around his wife's sleeping form.

"Hermione… Hermione!" Ron shook her at once, his hold on her shoulder tight.

"Mm, what?"

"Baby…" He used his endearing nickname for her without a second thought, and then immediately brought a hand to his mouth. "Oh… the… the baby…." Realization dawned on him of what the probable cause for all the blood was. He had heard his mother talk about it before, when she had been in a similar situation many years ago, before she had had the twins.

"Ron, what are you babbling about?"

Hermione sat up in bed, a sharp, blinding pain hitting her in her lower abdomen the minute she sat up. Her eyes snapped shut, and she wrapped both of her arms around her middle, clutching herself in a death grip. She gagged once, never opening her eyes, not even to look at her husband when he let out a squeamish scream of distress.

"Can you… can you walk?"

Ron silently cursed himself. That had been an incredibly stupid question to ask to a girl who was rocking herself back and forth, racked with pain. Sending her an apologetic look that she wouldn't receive, he carefully placed his arms underneath her legs and around her shoulders, trying to lift her up as gently as possible.

"Ron… It hurts… " She cut herself off with her own moan of pain and snaked an arm around his neck.

"I know, I know," Ron looked around the room, panicking a bit as he tried to figure out the best way to get to St. Mungo's. They couldn't very well apparate, at least not with her in this condition. They certainly couldn't use their magicked car to drive there, because it would take much too long. Gazing at the fireplace, Ron knew they would have to take that, and it would probably hurt quite a bit for his wife.

"Uh…we… we are going to have to floo over to St. Mungo's."

Hermione spared him an incredulous look, before shaking her head, tears rapidly pooling in her eyes.

"I can't…. I mean… If the baby…. I just…"

He understood what she meant. If the baby managed to survive this ordeal, whatever it was, flooing certainly could cause irreparable damage. On the other hand, if they didn't get to the hospital soon, Ron might not just be losing his unborn child, but his wife as well.

"Hermione Weasley, you can, and you will."

Ron had never spoken so firmly to her. Hermione realized he was quite serious, and she gave her head a small nod. He placed her down in front of him, his hand snaked around her to help support her, directly in front of the fireplace. Handing Hermione the bag with the dust, he knew they would have to go one by one. Ron thought it best for her to go on first, because if she couldn't make it, he would be there to help her, and as soon as she reached the hospital, someone would be able to take her from there.

"Go on. Grab a fistful and head on over."

Hermione did as she was instructed, her cheeks blushing a pale pink at being treated like a toddler. In a strange way, Hermione took comfort out of Ron's control over the situation. If he hadn't been there, she would have, admittedly, been a complete mess.

Stopping just before throwing the dust, Hermione swallowed back tears and leaned against the sooty bricks. "I love you," she whispered, as she dropped the powder and the fireplace erupted into violent green flames.

She hadn't stayed long enough to hear Ron's response, that he loved her too, more than anything, in fact. It was then that Ron allowed tears to well up in his own eyes, the horror of finding his wife in a pool of her own blood, the unsure state of health his unborn child was in, it all rushed over him at once, blinding him with fear and worry.

Ron permitted a single tear to fall, before he hastily followed in his wife's path, finding his way to St. Mungo's in his wife's wake.

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"Ron, what the hell are you doing here?"

Harry Potter, a blanket wrapped around his lower half, turned from his spot at the fridge when he heard a soft 'pop' from behind him. His glasses weren't on his face and there was no doubt in Ron's mind what he had been up to with his sister earlier that night. A carton of milk was clutched in Harry's hands as he glared at his best friend, whose head was bowed in what Harry had assumed was shame. After all, this used to be an old trick Ron would play on him, checking up on Harry teasingly to make sure he wasn't shagging his sister. But Harry had thought those days ended awhile ago, now that they were both mature, married men.

Ron grunted in a sound that came out much like a sniffle rather than the manly impression that he was trying to give off. It was then that Harry realized that something was wrong, terribly wrong, in fact. Harry had witnessed his best friend crying on few occasions, and each one was due to a devastating event.

"Are you… are you _crying_?"

Harry hadn't meant it to come out as incredulously as it did. He winced at the tone of his own voice, sighing and placing the milk down on the marble counter.

Ron shoved his hands into his pockets and turned away, facing sideways instead of looking at his best friend of many years. His face blazed red, with a mixture of both anger and embarrassment for being seen displaying such emotions. He wasn't aware of Harry's concerned stare, of his friend's footsteps getting closer, until he felt a warm hand land on his shoulder and give a gentle squeeze.

"Is it the family? Hermione?"

Worry crept into Harry's own voice as he tried to figure out what was going on.

"We lost the baby."

Harry closed his eyes and let out a slow sigh, unable to imagine the devastation that must have been felt upon losing a child, one that didn't even have a chance to live, at that.

By the time he opened his eyes again, Ron's face was crumpled, twisted with anguish, and a small sob shook his body. He placed his fist into his mouth, trying to stop the tears from falling. It didn't take Harry long at all to pull his friend into a hug, trying to keep his distance, but comfort Ron at the same time.

"Where's Hermione, Ron?"

"She's sleeping… in the hospital. Mum's there with her now."

"Ron… It will be okay." Harry tried to sound sure of himself, to give off an aura of confidence for Ron's own good. He didn't miss the abject awkwardness at being the one that had to give off the reassurance for a change.

Ron nodded his head against Harry's shoulder, feeling ridiculously out of place and incredibly uncomfortable. But his need for comfort outweighed his need to keep his dignity in tact.

"It'll... It'll be okay..." Harry repeated again, his eyes wandering towards the stairs to see his own wife, with a sad frown on her face, observing the two. Somehow, Harry knew it wasn't supposed to be like this. A family shouldn't have to be something so hard to attain. Yet, time and time again, it was.

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Feedback from wonderful _readers like you_ would be very much appreciated.

Don't be review shy! I don't mind if you tell me 'Ew! That was horrible.' or 'Aw, I liked it.' Just a little note would be fantastic. Constructive criticism, constructive criticism, please constructively criticize me!

x Muriel


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer:** I still don't own a thing. I don't own the characters, the plot, or the magic. If I had a mind as creative as that then I wouldn't be wasting my time writing fan fiction. I only play with the Wizarding World for awhile before handing it back to Rowling for safe keeping.

**Author's Note: **First off, I am back! Secondly, I no longer know how to use . :O Thirdly, thank you for your lovely reviews, they were all extremely kind and very much appreciated. If you are still reading this, even after its 2 year hiatus, I promise to update this regularly and never ever leave again! :) Fourthly, I am in desperate need of an editor. My old one recently had a baby, and well, she's plenty busy now! I hope you like this chapter and there will be much more goodness to come.

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**THE VERY FIRST SCAR**

**CHAPTER TWO**

"_Were you ever here at all…?"_

Six months had passed fairly quickly in the Weasley household. There had been mostly bad days for Ron and Hermione but there had been the occasional warm moment, when everything appeared to be back to normal. Normal these days was mostly a tremendous overstatement. Like any mother who is forced to deal with the unbearable loss of her child, Hermione went through the cycles of grief, battling each new tidal wave of emotion as it came. For the most part, Hermione had taken to complete isolation; isolation from friends, isolation from family and isolation from society, which was full of its radiant new mothers with their bouncing new bundles of joy.

A month after her tragic loss, Hermione stepped down from her hard-earned job at the Ministry, which had ironically taken nine months in the making to be promoted to. Two months after her tragic loss, Hermione decided she wanted to move to a new flat, with new neighbors and a new atmosphere. Three months after her tragic loss, Hermione asked Ron for a separation, as looking at him day after day, knowing what they lost, was growing to be too much for her. Four months after her tragic loss, Hermione had stopped communicating to each member of the Weasley clan, which only led to growing concern from all of its members. Five months after her tragic loss, Hermione found herself crying on Ron's doorstep, proclaiming she absolutely could not live without him by her side.

And now, six months after her tragic loss, Hermione was throwing away every single reminder that she had ever even been pregnant at all.

"Hermione…?"

Ron's voice was full of uncertainty as he entered the master bedroom, the bedroom he was pleased belonged to both him and his wife once again. He was watching her rummage through an old trunk, full of mostly old things that were accidentally hoarded during the impromptu move a few months earlier.

"Mm?"

"What, uh, what are you doing, exactly?"

Hermione stopped her rummaging and looked up at her husband, confusion written all over her face, as if it should have been evident what the motive was behind her project. In her hand were old shirts, crumpled papers, old books and a picture. She took the belongings and flung them on the bed, waving her hand in their direction so Ron could assess their one common denominator.

Even looking at the items, Ron still had no idea what she was doing. He was worried about her that was for sure. Over the course of the past six months he had witnessed his beloved wife have a complete mental breakdown. What was worse, all he could really do was watch. She had been stubborn, true to her character, after the miscarriage. But Ron couldn't help but think that somehow Hermione had forgotten that it was _his_ baby that was lost, too, not just hers.

"I don't really understand… You wanted to go through some of your old clothes…?"

Ron reached over and picked up a shirt, but Hermione quickly tugged the material out of his hands. She crumpled up the old cloth and placed it under her arm, repeating the action for the remaining articles of clothing splayed over the bed.

"No, Ron. I just need to get rid of these." She spoke quietly, with agitation lining her voice.

"But… why?"

"Because. They are memories from _before_. Memories I don't need around anymore."

Hermione turned her back to Ron, her feet carrying her out of the bedroom and out to the dumpster. She had accidentally left the picture lying on the bedspread, and Ron leaned down to pick it up. The picture had a little nugget, the tiniest he had ever remembered seeing, moving slightly back and forth. The top of the picture read "Weasley, Hermione, 12 weeks." It was the ultrasound picture that Hermione had done a couple days before the miscarriage, and suddenly realization dawned on him. She was exterminating everything "baby" from her life. The old clothes that she had bought a few sizes too big, the old books filled with baby names and parenting techniques, the old medical receipts and pamphlets distributed at healer's appointments, the only picture she had ever had and ever would have of her first child, all discarded like the pregnancy had never occurred.

Ron brought the picture up to his lips, kissed it, and placed it safely in his pocket, his little secret to protect.

* * *

Ginny was sure she was sick. Not just sick as in a slight bout of the stomach flu, but sick as in there was something seriously, perhaps even terminally, wrong with her. For the past month she had zero energy. She couldn't even climb the flight of stairs to her bedroom without feeling exhausted. She couldn't eat a thing, either. Every morsel of food that she swallowed was thrown right back up again only a few moments later. The smell of anything cooking, or of her husband's favored cologne, made her stomach queasy. At first she had thought she was pregnant and had taken a home pregnancy test. But then, only a few days after, her period had come so she disregarded that idea. Still, her symptoms were only intensifying. She was always hot, always wearing tank tops and shorts, even though it was the dead of winter. She was always getting headaches she couldn't shake, even after napping for several hours. Her back constantly hurt, and no matter what position she lay down in, she was always uncomfortable. So, Ginny Potter decided that there was something seriously wrong with her indeed.

"Ginny, I'm home!"

Ginny heard Harry's voice from upstairs, where she lay on top of their bed, a towel wrapped around her freshly showered body.

"I'm upstairs."

"Coming right up!" Harry smiled as he took the stairs, two at a time, and dodged into the bedroom where his wife lay.

"Don't." Ginny winced as Harry took a seat next to her on the bed, her stomach churning at the sudden pull on the mattress.

Harry laid one of his hands on Ginny's back, patting gently and sighing.

"Still sick?"

"Yes."

"It's been about a month, hasn't it? You need to see a Healer."

Ginny rolled her eyes at Harry, as if he was telling her something she did not already know. She just was not particularly eager in getting the results back from a Healer. What if there was something really wrong with her? What if she had to stay over at St. Mungo's for awhile away from Harry? What if she was incurable? It wasn't that Ginny was afraid of Healers or hospital settings, because Ginny Weasley Potter was afraid of nothing. She just did not want one little trip to the Healer to change her whole world.

"I'm making an appointment for you. Healer Lee, right?"

"Harry, don't, I'll make one tomorrow for myself. It'll be fine."

"Nope, you stay here and relax. I'll set it up for you and take you myself."

Harry left with a wink to his wife and a quick peck on her cheek. Ginny groaned and placed her arm over her head, closing her eyes and drowning out the sunlight. She was just starting to drift to sleep when Harry came back upstairs, placing a hand on her head.

"The Healer wants to see you right away, Gin."

Ginny propped herself up, bearing her weight on her left arm, her eyes widening at Harry's news. Any sense of sleep she had previously had was melted away by the realization that she was going to the healers, and going to the healers, _today_.

"Today? Why? I'm sure they have more pressing medical emergencies they need to take care of. Mine can wait until tomorrow. Or the next day… or next week, even!"

Harry simply shook his head at her and walked over to their wooden dresser, pulling out some clothes Ginny could change into. He walked them over to her and kissed her once more, this time on the lips.

"Healer Lee wants to see you as soon as possible. You've been feeling bad for awhile now. It's time to make you feel better."

Ginny let out a soft sigh and appeased her husband when he pointed to her clothes, silently signaling her to get dressed.

"I'll meet you by the fireplace. We'll floo over."

"_Floo_?" Ginny asked, incredulously, knowing it would be much quicker to Apparate.

"Yes, _floo_." Harry mocked, not offering any kind of explanation for his choice. "Hurry up, the sooner we get there, the sooner it will be over with."

With that Harry left, leaving Ginny's mind to wander in his wake.

* * *

"Well Mr. and Mrs. Potter, I have some very good news for you."

"I'm not dying?" Ginny asked, somewhat sarcastically.

"No, you're not dying," Healer Lee laughed, "In fact, you're pregnant. Seven weeks, to be exact."

Ginny's eyebrows stitched together, and she shook her head back and forth, confused by the news. Next to her, Harry was beaming, his happiness radiating off of his skin. His hand searched for hers and interlocked their fingers together, before he brought her hand to his lips and kissed it with far more enthusiasm than Ginny was comfortable with.

"What do you mean "pregnant"?" Ginny questioned, her eyes slicing into slivers, staring accusingly at the Healer.

"I mean you are going to be a mother, Mrs. Potter. Congratulations!"

"But I have been on birth control for the past three years. I took a test just a few weeks ago and it was negative! And… and I got my period this month. I'm sorry Healer Lee, but I think you got my test results mixed or something."

"Ginny, I can assure you these results are accurate. Home pregnancy tests can sometimes be faulty and some women do have their menstrual cycles during the first few months of pregnancy. It's not usual, but not impossible."

"Bloody hell… I'm… I'm seriously pregnant then? I'm going to be a mother? To a baby?"

The Healer nodded and Harry stepped in front of his wife, embracing her in a hug.

"Oh Ginny, this is great news! Parents, we are going to be parents!"

Ginny tried to match Harry's enthusiasm and smiled brightly for him to show her support, but she wasn't quite sure how happy she was. Children, yes, of course she wanted them, at least one day. However, one day was not today. One day was not a few scant months after her brother and sister-in-law found out they lost their baby. Instead of being thrilled, Ginny felt guilty, like she stole something from Ron that she could never give back. She stole the one thing that her brother wanted the most and she couldn't amend it.

"We have to tell everyone. Let's go to The Burrow! No, let's go to Ron's! We need to tell Ron and Hermione!"

Harry pulled on Ginny's hand, trying to set her in motion, but she would not budge an inch.

"No."

"What? What do you mean "no"? Ginny, this is fantastic! They will be so happy for us, a new Potter entering this world!"

"No, Harry. We can absolutely _not_ let Ron or Hermione find out about this. It would devastate them."

Harry frowned for a moment but had no real reply. He hadn't thought about that, in all his joy. He thought his best friends would be nothing but happy for them, but maybe Ginny was right. It wasn't exactly an optimal situation and Harry didn't want to cause the couple any more pain. Ron and Hermione had been through enough.

"Okay… we'll wait then."

Ginny smiled, a true smile, relief written all over her face. "Thank you," she whispered, before she hugged her husband tight and placed a hand on her stomach.

* * *

"Baby, don't cry. Please, please, don't cry. Hermione, it's okay, everything's going to be okay, alright? Just… just please stop crying."

Ron knelt in front of his wife who was sitting on the kitchen ground, a calendar in her hand. It was the first time she had allowed Ron to actually witness her tears since the night of the miscarriage. Before, she would lock him out; do whatever it took to ensure that Ron did not see her in such a vulnerable position. Ron had seen her cry so many times before, but this situation was different. This situation meant that she was a failure and a disappointment, especially to the man who was counting on her to carry his baby.

"It's _not_ okay, Ron. Look!"

She shoved the calendar under his nose, the current date, Jamuary 16th, circled in bright red ink with a smiley face planted in the box. Today was Hermione's due date. Today was supposed to have been the best day of her life, not her worst.

Ron closed his eyes and took a deep breath in. The months, the weeks, the days had all blurred together and he hadn't even realized it was January, never mind the day he was supposed to have become a father.

"Hermione, there's no use in crying. It won't… It won't bring it back." Ron winced. Even to him his words sounded extremely harsh, but he was struggling to deal with this as much as his wife was and he was sick of being the rock for the past six months. It may have been selfish, but he wanted to be the one to break down and be comforted by his wife for once, rather than being the glue that held it all together.

"_How_ can you say that? _How_ can you just carry on so… so… _normally_ after what happened? It's like… well it's like you don't even really care!" Hermione spat at him, her body shaking with the mix of anger and overwhelming devastation.

"Is that what you think, Hermione? Is that really what you think? That I just sit here every day and I am just pleased as pie about everything? Don't you think I don't miss our baby, or dream about how our life would have been different if we were having this baby, just as much as you do? Because I do, Hermione! I think about how our family would have been every single day. Unlike you, I can't just let myself fall apart. Someone has to be strong and it bloody well is not you! You are not the only one who is hurting. I lost a child that day too. Damn it, Hermione, if you weren't so busy wallowing in your own self pity maybe you'd realize that other people's lives have changed from this aside from yours!"

With that Ron stormed out of the room, letting the door slam shut behind him. His face was bright red, his hands clenched in tight fists as he paced. He knew he shouldn't have blown up on her like that. She was hurting and he was her husband. It was his duty to make sure she was okay, to make sure she got better. He just couldn't do it. Not now and maybe not anymore.

He grabbed his jacket off of the wall hook and hooked his head back into the kitchen doorway.

"I'm going over to Harry's for awhile."

Hermione opened her mouth and closed it, but no words came out.

"Fine, then."

Her reply was sharp and her arms crossed over her chest. Hermione knew Ron was hot headed, had known that since the very first day she met him. Over the past six months she had forgotten. She had forgotten some of her husband's most basic personality traits, traits she had learned to fall in love with, because he had been so consumed in making sure she was alright that he was devoid of almost all emotion. At least, he showed no emotion except concern, love and care when he had been tending to her. Maybe she had taken her husband for granted. Maybe she had been outright awful and uncharacteristically rude to him. But wasn't her reaction fitting to someone who had literally had their life ripped away from them?

As Ron was about to walk out the door, Hermione stood up and cleared her throat. His hand touched the door knob, but paused, as if he was waiting for a reply. Ron stood like that for a few moments, silently praying his wife would say something, so that he could just turn around, embrace her, and try to live normally. He missed normalcy so much he physically ached for it. He missed laughing. He missed being intimate with his wife. He missed the old Ron and Hermione. Ron didn't know how much more he could take of this, how much more he could go on living the way he was.

Hermione stared at his back, hopeful for a minute when he paused. She racked her brain for something to say, something that would make him stay with her. The truth was she needed him, she needed Ron to understand the thoughts and feelings that she was struggling with every day. Being the smart, rational girl, Hermione just could not bring herself to speak the words aloud. For once in her life, Hermione Granger had failed at something. Hermione had failed at becoming a mother and now she was failing at being a wife and a friend.

"When will you be home?" She asked, the only words she could think of falling from lips softly.

"I'm not sure. Don't wait up for me though."

Ron walked out the door, entering the cold, and headed to the flying car parked on the street. He noted, with sick irony, that the cold winter wind was not so much different from the cold he had just left, the cold that consumed his life and his marriage. The only thing Ron kept thinking to himself as he started the ignition was maybe love wasn't always forever.

* * *

Feedback from wonderful _readers like you_ would be very much appreciated.

Don't be review shy! I don't mind if you tell me 'Ew! That was horrible.' or 'Aw, I liked it.' Just a little note would be fantastic.

x Muriel


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer:** I still don't own a thing. I don't own the characters, the plot, or the magic. If I had a mind as creative as that then I wouldn't be wasting my time writing fan fiction. I only play with the Wizarding World for awhile before handing it back to Rowling for safe keeping.

**Author's Note: **I promise that after this chapter, it will get happier! There will be less attention placed on babies and more attention placed on Ron and Hermione's relationship. Of course, there will be lots of Harry and Ginny in there as well. Just hang in there, happier times are to come!

* * *

**LEAVE ME LIKE THIS**

**CHAPTER THREE**

****_"You and I walk a fragile line..."_

_Dear Ron_,

_I hope this owl finds you well. I hope that you are happy and healthy. I haven't heard from you in awhile and I'm starting to get worried. How's the Burrow? How are your Mum and Dad? Please write back to me… Please come home. I love you._

_Hermione_

Hermione Weasley tied the parchment to the family owl's leg hastily and securely, stroking its feathers as if coaxing the bird would make the delivery faster. She felt foolish, begging her own husband to come back to her. It had been three weeks, exactly, since they had their fight. Two and a half weeks since Ron decided he should go live with his parents for awhile, until they had both cooled down enough to be able to work through their problems, instead of just exacerbating them.

It wasn't just Ron's lazy smile, his tender touch and his unparalleled sense of humor that Hermione so desperately missed. She missed all of his character traits, that was for sure, but there was another more pressing reason she needed him to come home, too. Hermione was late. Not late, as in she missed a deadline for her newly appointed job at the Ministry, which was a lot more abysmal than the one she had previously quit. Not late, as in, she woke up in a hurry and couldn't get ready in time. She was "late" as in her monthly period was three weeks past due.

There was no way Hermione could go through _that_ ordeal again. Yes, Hermione desperately wanted to be a mother, to raise a family with her husband whom she so dearly loved. As a little girl, becoming a mother was something she constantly dreamed about, taking to playing house with all of her dolls and caring for them. Unfortunately, playing house and obtaining dollies was far less complicated than actually having a family and creating another human life.

Hermione did not want to get her hopes up in case she was not pregnant. There was a chance, a good chance that the stress and pressure of her marriage and her recent miscarriage had led to hormonal changes which led to a mishap with her menstrual cycle. She did not want to think about that alternative. To Hermione, being late could really only mean the one thing, the one thing that she had been preparing herself for since she was seven. Sure, it was soon, and finding out she was with child again would be like ripping off an old bandage, but it was something that Hermione definitely did want. She just knew she couldn't deal with the disappointment or the hurt if things did not work out well again. It would literally be the death of her, she was afraid.

That's why Hermione not only wanted her husband to return home, but _needed_ him too. Needing another person, to draw comfort from a human source other than herself, was something Hermione had gotten used to in the past few years. By now she was so acclimated to Ron's ongoing support that being without it made her realize how utterly lonely independence could truly be. All Hermione could do now was wait and hope that her husband would return to her, sooner rather than later. Hermione was bursting to tell him the news, to share how excited and frightened she was with the only person who knew _exactly_ what she was going through. The question was, did Ron still want to be that person?

Ron stood outside staring up at the front door of his flat, uncharacteristically unsure of himself. After a month from being away from his home and abandoning his wife, he was back. He felt foolish. In a time of need he had fled from the scene instead of staying to work things out. That's what he had promised to do, wasn't it? Years before, when he said his wedding vows, hadn't Ron said "for better or for worse" and "in sickness and in health?" He was a hypocrite. For the past month Ron had been beating himself ragged over leaving his wife, especially when their relationship was in such a raw state as it currently was. If he had just fixed it, made an attempt to amend their faltering relationship, perhaps they both would have healed a lot more quickly than they were.

He stood at the door, not quite knowing what to do. Knocking seemed unnecessary, but just barging in seemed oddly rude. Ron lifted his hand, squeezing it into a fist, but hesitated inches away from the doorknob. In his pocket was a key that he could have used, but he honestly didn't know if he should take the liberties in doing so. Instead, he settled on a knock, even as his cheeks turned slightly pink with embarrassment sparked by the gesture.

It took only moments before the door opened; moments before his stunningly beautiful wife's figure filled the doorway. The moment Hermione spotted him a smile crawled onto her face. She just couldn't help it. Her body filled with relief at the familiarity of the person standing in front of her and she instantly stood aside and waved her husband in.

"Hermione… We… Well I think we ought to talk."

Hermione's head nodded on its own, the dreaded words falling out of Ron's mouth. The need for discussion only happened on one occasion, and it was never really a pleasant one. Tears sprung into her eyes and she tried to keep them at bay before she looked like a blubbering idiot in front of the one man she really did love.

Ron noticed the tears and guilt pulled at his stomach. Instantly he realized what she must have been thinking and he quickly shook his head back and forth, his hands in front of him, swaying in a frantic waving motion.

"No, no, not _that_ kind of talk! I just think it's about time we discussed…. _Everything_."

The worry seeped out of Hermione's face and she relaxed. The talk they needed to have certainly wouldn't be a pleasant one, but it was better than the other alternative. It was better than finding out that Ron no longer wanted to talk with her at all.

"So, er, let's take a seat, shall we?" Ron asked, a bit uncomfortably, as he guided his wife into the living room. He waited for her to take a seat on the sofa before sitting down next to her. This was a talk that was seven months overdue and Ron hoped it would clear the air between them.

* * *

"Harry, have you seen my shoes? I swear they were right _here_ this morning. Do you know where they could have possibly gone?"

Ginny was a complete mess! The heels she needed for dinner with her parents had seemingly vanished into thin air. They were the only ones that seems to fit her slightly swollen ankles and the only ones she could wear comfortably for more than an hour. The last time she saw them they were placed on the last step of the staircase and that had only been about four hours ago.

"No, Gin, I haven't seen them. Are you sure you didn't try them on this morning or something?"

Ginny huffed as her husband's voice floated in from the living room, where she could hear a television gently blaring.

"No, _Harry_, I most definitely did _not_..." she stopped, pausing, suddenly remembering her earlier debate between two dresses, during which time she had brought the shoes up to the bedroom with her. "Oh, actually… never mind."

Ginny hurried up the stairs, risking a glance at the clock hanging on the wall. She had only forty minutes left to get ready. Forty minutes left until her parents found out she was approximately three months pregnant with their grandchild. Butterflies were already fluttering inside of her stomach, knowing that she could not keep the secret any longer.

In the bedroom, she found the shoes she was looking for, poking out from underneath the bed. The black dress, the one that slimmed her down and hid any evidence of weight gain, was sprawled out on top of the bed's duvet. She walked over to the mirror and began to undress, her eyes staring at her naked body. They focused in on the changes she had noticed since she found out she was pregnant. The slight increase in breast size, the softer, more pronounced curve of her stomach, all of it amazed Ginny. Inside of her was an actual being, a little bean that was depending on her for its very own life. It was then that Ginny realized how much pain Hermione must have been through. She couldn't imagine losing this little child, _her_ little child, the one whom she was providing life support to. It would be excruciating.

* * *

"Ron, before we start, there is really something I need to let you know," Hermione said, trying to keep the excitement out of her voice. She reached over and took one of Ron's much larger hands and held it in her own.

"What is it, Hermione? Are you okay?" Concern suddenly washed over him and he couldn't help the sudden urgency he felt to make sure she was alright.

"I… I missed my period this month."

"Er… oh?"

Even after all this time, Ron still turned beat red with the mention of menstruation. Hermione saw the involuntary action as endearing.

"Yes… but I haven't taken a test of anything. I wanted to wait a while before… before I did that. But it's been about three weeks so I think I ought to take one soon."

"Three weeks?" Ron asked, incredulously, wondering how Hermione had been able to keep that to herself for three whole weeks without him being informed. "I think we should take one tonight… as soon as possible, actually!"

Hermione nibbled on her bottom lip and slowly nodded her head. Taking one meant facing reality. Taking one meant the difference between knowing whether or not she was actually going to become a mother. She had to know, though. If she was pregnant, she had to find out sooner rather than later so she could get the proper prenatal care to ensure nothing like what happened before would happen again.

"We still need to talk."

This time it was Hermione who insisted they communicate, that they rehash everything to get it all out in the open. She had ulterior motives, however. The longer the talk took, the longer she could wait to take the test. Hermione simply wasn't ready for another disappointment.

"I'm sorry for leaving you like that. It… well it wasn't right of me to do so," Ron said firmly, his eyes meeting Hermione's. "I know that you are going through a lot, but I am too. I just didn't know how to help you feel better when I couldn't even help myself."

Hermione listened to him, his words penetrating through her, making her feel even worse. Of course he had been going through the same thing as her, but he hadn't been the one to _carry_ the fetus, to be the one responsible for the baby's health. That had been her responsibility and she hadn't done a well enough job. Tears prickled at her eyes and she looked away, trying to find her voice.

"I know you feel terrible about it too, Ron. But _you_ weren't the one who was supposed to take care of it. You weren't the one who _failed_ at keeping it safe. You weren't the one who was unable to carry it to full term." Hermione spoke harshly, disgust lacing her voice. She had honestly hated herself for the past seven months. She hated herself because for the first time in her life, Hermione didn't have the answers. Finding ways to cope with the loss of an unborn child wasn't something someone could find the answers to in a book. For the first time in Hermione's life, she had disappointed and failed the two most important people in her life; her husband and her child.

Understanding dawned on Ron and he instantly felt incredibly dense. Of course Hermione would feel failure after losing her child. Failure was something Hermione never dealt particularly well with, mostly because it was such a rare occurrence for her to have to encounter. He should have known she would feel like the miscarriage was entirely her fault, even though it wasn't. It was just a dose of bad luck, a twist of unfortunate fate.

Ron stood up and knelt in front of Hermione, cupping his hand under her chin and forcing her to look at him. He looked into her eyes for a minute before meaningfully clearing his throat.

"Hermione Weasley, losing that baby was _not_ your fault. You did everything _perfectly_. You took care of yourself better than any other pregnant woman I have ever known. There was _nothing_ you did wrong. It was not your fault."

Ron spoke so firmly that Hermione was a bit taken aback. If she hadn't already loved him with every fiber in her being, she would have fallen in love with him right then and there. A single tear fell down her cheek and she threw her arms around him, clutching onto him with everything she had. She stayed that way for awhile, not moving. It felt so good to have her in his arms again, to finally have some ounce of affection from his wife that Ron had no desire to let go.

"I love you," she finally whispered, so softly that Ron wasn't sure he had heard anything at all.

* * *

"Harry, I just don't feel right about this."

Ginny sat at the restaurant table with her husband, anxiously waiting for her parents' arrival. Harry took her hand in his own and brought it to his lips, kissing her soft skin.

"About what?"

"About telling Mum and Dad."

Harry looked at her, a single eyebrow raised. "Ginny, we can't keep this a secret. Eventually they're going to find out when your stomach starts to swell."

The way Harry was looking at her, Ginny knew that he thought she was being positively ridiculous. She just didn't feel right about sharing the joyous news with her family, at least until Ron and Hermione knew. Ginny knew being pregnant shouldn't have felt like a dirty secret, but she felt like she was going behind her brother's back by not telling him first.

"I can't tell them yet."

"Ginny…"

"No, Harry, _please_. We need to leave. I have to tell Ron first."

Ginny's eyes looked up pleadingly into Harry's, and for a minute, Harry didn't know what to do. It felt disrespectful and wrong to ditch Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, but Ginny had a point. He felt strange telling anyone before he told his best friends.

"Alright," Harry conceded, standing up and walking over to the waiter. He whispered something to the man at the podium, who nodded his head understandingly, before walking back over to the table. "Let's go tell Ron and Hermione, then."

Ginny breathed a sigh of relief, slipped her hand into Harry's and followed her husband out of the restaurant.

* * *

"Hermione, are you okay in there?"

Ron was sitting impatiently outside of the bathroom door, his head leaning against the wall, straining his ears in hopes of picking up any little sound.

"_Three_ minutes, Ron. It hasn't even been _one_ yet!" Hermione cried back through the door.

She was sitting on the edge of the bathtub, her wand floating over her stomach. The familiar pregnancy test felt like it was taking forever, and she grinned at her husband's impatience.

After a few more moments, Ron knocked on the door. "Is it time _yet_?"

"No."

"Will you let me in the bloody bathroom, Hermione? There's nothing I haven't seen before!"

With a huff, Hermione rolled her eyes and unlocked the bathroom door, turning the knob to allow Ron entry. He took a seat next to her on the edge of the bathtub, his eyes glued to the soft glow projected by the wand. If the light turned red, it meant Hermione was pregnant. If it turned gray, it meant she was not.

"Merlin, this is taking forever."

"I know," Hermione's eyes were diverted, not wishing to see the results herself. "It's time…" Hermione whispered after a couple of minutes, her eyes staring at Ron's hands, instead of at the wand. "Tell me what it says."

Ron puffed out a quick breath and shook his head. "I'm sorry, baby… It's negative."

Hermione closed her eyes and took a deep breath, allowing herself to feel the disappointment. "Are you sure?"

"Yes," Ron replied weakly, one hand reaching up to tuck one of Hermione's curls behind her ear.

"Oh." Hermione looked up at Ron with sad eyes, her hands reaching over her stomach.

"If you're ready, we can try for another baby, Hermione."

"I'm not," she said with finality, standing up. She was walking out of the bathroom, when there was a sudden knock on the door.

"I'll get it," Ron muttered, walking out of the bathroom and into the living room, where he opened the front door.

"Harry… Gin… now isn't really the best time," Ron started to say, before Hermione showed up behind him.

"Come in."

Hermione waved the couple inside of the flat, forcing a smile on her face.

"We aren't here to stay long. We just have something we would like to tell you." Harry spoke with a lot more confidence than he felt.

Ron raised an eyebrow, looking from his younger sister to his best friend. "Well, go on."

"Hermione, Ron… I'm… _We're_… pregnant," Ginny whispered, her hands laced protectively over her belly where her dress hid the tiniest of bumps.

"You're…" Hermione's eyes darted between Harry and Ginny, her breath hitching at the news. "You're pregnant?"

"Yes, we are." Harry spoke firmly, walking to his wife's side and dropping a kiss delicately onto her temple.

Hermione felt like the world had stopped, like she could no longer breathe. All the time she had yearned for motherhood so badly it ached and her best friends, who hadn't even been trying to conceive, had received some of the best news of their lives. A flash of jealousy swept through her body and Hermione clenched her fists in an effort to keep the envy at bay. These were her _friends_, she had to be happy for them. Her own misery could not come in and ruin this moment for them. It was _their_ time to be happy; Hermione had to keep reminding herself of that.

"Pregnant!" Ron scoffed, jokingly, nonchalantly walking behind his wife to drop his hands on her shoulders, as if his lanky body could shield the hurt he knew this would inevitably cause her.

"Well, congratulations! Looks like I'm going to be an Uncle to some lucky little wizard or witch. Preferably a wizard though, hear that Ginny?"

Ron's face portrayed a smile, but wrinkles of stress and exhaustion lay just underneath the happy façade. He wanted to become a father more than Harry had, he was sure of it. Ron shook his head, knowing he had to be happy for Harry now.

"Yes…Congratulations!"

Hermione had come to her senses and pulled the younger woman into a hug. "You two will make perfect parents, I am absolutely sure of it!"

Ginny blushed under Hermione's compliment and smiled as Hermione moved to Harry, to embrace him as well.

"Thank you Hermione. That means everything to me," Ginny spoke softly and sincerely, some of her apprehension and guilt melting away at her brother and sister-in-law's collective approval.

Neither Harry nor Ginny saw the dark look that passed between Hermione and Ron. They both wanted a baby so badly, but a baby was the one thing that was so hard for them to have. Hermione couldn't help but believe that life simply was not fair.

* * *

Feedback from wonderful _readers like you_ would be very much appreciated.

Don't be review shy! I need to know if you guys like the direction this story is going in, what you would like to see more of, less of, etc.! I have a lot of story alerts for this, but not that many reviews on the second chapter, so if you want more, please let me know!

x Muriel


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer:** I still don't own a thing. I don't own the characters, the plot, or the magic. If I had a mind as creative as that then I wouldn't be wasting my time writing fan fiction. I only play with the Wizarding World for awhile before handing it back to Rowling for safe keeping.

**Author's Note:** Well, this chapter is _slightly_ happier than the previous ones! There is a sad moment though, so be warned! Thanks to all of you amazing readers and reviewers, you motivate me to continue this fic and I love you for it! I hope this chapter is satisfying for all R/Hr shippers out there. Next chapter will include some Harry/Ginny and the birth of baby James. Hope you all read, enjoy and review, in that order! ;)

* * *

**WATCH ME NAVIGATE**

**CHAPTER FOUR**

_"Turn forever, hand in hand..."_

"I must say you look absolutely stunning tonight."

Ron Weasley sat at his dining room table, staring at his wife appreciatively. Her hair was pulled back, a single tendril falling delicately against her cheekbone. The dress she was wearing made her womanly figure even more appealing than it normally was. Ron's eyes were locked on Hermione's bright brown eyes, which were once again glimmering with hope and happiness, two things that had been hard to find in the past few months. Ron wanted to breathe this moment in, relish in it, and never let it escape from his memory. He was happy. His wife was happy. _They_ were _happy_, and everything, even if it were just for a few brief moments, just felt so _right_.

"Well, Mr. Weasley, you don't look too shabby yourself," Hermione's eyes lit up happily, illuminating her radiant skin and her smile, one that wasn't forced or faked in the least.

Ron took the bottle of sparkling cider into his hand and reached over, to fill up Hermione's glass along with his own. The cider was used in the absence of wine because they were still actively trying to conceive, and Hermione was following a strict diet that consisted of no alcoholic beverages. He took his filled cup and raised it up, nodding at Hermione for her to follow suit.

"To us," he chimed with a grin, clunking his glass against hers, a gentle hum filling the air.

"To us," Hermione repeated with a soft laugh, bringing her glass to her mouth to take a sip.

Ron began to generously fill Hermione's plate up with the feast he had spent all day cooking for her, without the aid of any magic. It had been a hard feat, but one that had been worthwhile when he saw the look on his wife's face. Hermione placed her hand in front of her, signaling that her plate had more than enough food on it, but Ron simply smirked.

"No, no, my dear, I spent hours making this for you so you will eat until you physically cannot eat anymore."

Hermione gave a mock sigh, signaling her defeat, and picked up her fork.

"Ron, you really didn't have to go through all of this trouble. It looks delicious!"

Ron picked up his fork as well and waited for Hermione to take the first bite. He was nervous, having never really cooked much more than microwaveable, or wand-conjured, food. Usually it was Hermione who did all the heavy cooking, for holidays or special events, or even just dinners. Ron had decided that with everything that she went through, she deserved a break, which was why he had braved the kitchen and went to work.

Hermione was taking too long to take a bite, meticulously placing food on her fork and swirling it around, playing with Ron's patience.

"Hermione, c'mon now, tuck in!" Ron's voice was laced with impatience his eyes narrowing at her, practically begging her to try his concoction.

A small smile, which came out more as a grimace, pulled at Hermione's face as she shut her eyes and placed the food inside of her mouth. She chewed it cautiously, trying to save her taste buds from the torture she knew they would soon endure. Ron had never been much of a cook. Even with food that didn't involve cooking, Ron had a way to turn them inedible. The taste that flooded her mouth was a mixture of heavy spices and charcoal, a less than pleasant experience. She tried to give Ron a genuine smile, not wanting to hurt his feelings, as she swallowed the remains in her mouth.

"How is it?" His voice was laced with apprehension, only causing Hermione to feel more guilt.

"G-good. It's great," she lied, puncturing more food on her plate with her fork tines.

"Really?"

Hermione just waited for Ron to place the food inside of his own mouth. She winced slightly as she watched him take a bite and bit down on her lip apologetically as he spit the food back into his napkin.

"Merlin, that tastes like rubbish!"

Ron stood up from the table quickly, rushing to the kitchen sink to get a glass of water. He took a greedy sip, allowing the foul taste to leave his mouth, before he turned back around to face his lying, sensitive, beautiful wife.

"Why'd you tell me _that _was good? It's possibly the most… _rancid_… thing I've ever… _ingested_!" Ron was working himself up, his cheeks blushing a violent red color. "I can't even cook a bloody anniversary meal for my wife. One meal and I managed to muck it up! What kind of a husband am I, anyway, if I can't even do one lousy little thing for you!"

Hermione tried to hide her smile beneath her hand, which had been placed over her lips, but she couldn't hold back the laugh that erupted out of her chest.

"You… you think this is _funny_?"

Hermione leaned back in her seat, laughing so hard tears here rolling down her cheeks. She tried to stifle herself, to gain some sort of control, but she couldn't. Her poor husband couldn't cook for the life of him.

"I-I'm s-sorry," she stuttered in between chuckles, standing up from her seat and walking over to him. She wrapped her arms around his waist and gave him a chaste kiss on the lips.

"Why are you laughing at me?" Ron gave her a small pout and gestured over towards the table. "This was supposed to be your special dinner, for our anniversary."

"It was very sweet of you, Ron, honestly, but we both know you aren't exactly the best chef in the word."

Ron scrubbed a hand over his face and shook his head, a small smile finally tugging at his own lips. He let out a small laugh and wrapped his arms around Hermione, returning her embrace.

"You're right. I probably should have picked something up or had Ginny come over to cook. This was not one of my finest ideas."

Hermione kissed him once more, deeply, before pulling away and looking at the countertop.

"So… what's for desert?" She asked, wearing a seductive smile and offering Ron a flirtatious wink. Instead of pointing towards the strawberry shortcake Ron had obviously had much trouble creating, Hermione tugged Ron's hand in the direction of their bedroom.

Ron followed Hermione eagerly, his dinner disaster long forgotten in his mind. He watched his wife close the door behind them and intently stared as she let her hair fall down, long curls hanging off her shoulders and cascading down her back. She laid down on top of the bed and pet the area next to her.

"Well, what are you waiting for?"

"Bloody hell."

* * *

When Hermione woke up, the sun had already set and the room was dark. Her body was in a tangle of sheets enveloped in Ron's arms. She propped herself up on her elbow and looked at her husband lovingly, reaching down to give him a kiss on his bare, freckled shoulder blade. Hermione tried to delicately slide out of the bed, without disturbing Ron, but he stirred the moment he felt the mattress shift.

"Hermione…?"

"Go back to sleep."

"What time is it?"

"Late. I'm not sure."

Ron let out a low moan and rolled over to face her, her face barely illuminated by the small sliver of light elicited from the moon.

"Where are you going?" He asked her as she stood up and tied on a bathrobe.

"I'm hungry."

Ron got out of the bed with her, turning on the light. His eyes blinked wearily as they tried to adjust, used to the darkness that had previously filled the space.

"Let's get something to eat then."

Hermione walked into the kitchen and opened the refrigerator, eyeing all of the objects in there disinterestedly. Although the fridge was full of snacks she would ordinarily love to indulge in, Hermione didn't find any particularly appealing. She shut the door shut and let out a small huff, moving over towards the cabinets to rummage through them.

Ron's figure filled the entryway and he quizzically watched his wife move from cupboard to cupboard. "Ah, Hermione, dear, what are you doing?"

She grabbed a box of crackers out of the cabinet and tore the brown packaging open, ripping one out of the line and shoving it into her mouth.

"Honestly, don't we have _anything_ edible in this house?"

"Er… have you seen our kitchen?" Ron asked, eyeing the many packages Hermione had searched though before she had settled on the crackers which were currently being deposited inside of her mouth, at even what Ron considered an impressive pace.

It only took a few minutes before Hermione placed the crackers back where they belonged and began searching again. This time, she moved back to the fridge, opening the freezer. She grabbed at a carton of icecream and tore the lid off. There was a brief moment where Ron wondered who this woman was and what she had done with her overly conscious dieting plan, the one she had consistently stuck to in order to be baby-making ready.

"Do you want some?" Hermione asked, holding a spoon in his direction.

Ron shook his head, finding the idea of icecream at such a late hour less than appealing. He watched her shrug and then fill the spoon, placing it in her mouth and swallowing. She repeated the action a few times before the icecream was once again met with the freezer and shut back in its holding place.

With widened eyes, Ron watched Hermione go over to the chalkboard and pick up the piece of new chalk that he had placed there a few days ago. It was where they wrote down the errands they needed to run, or the groceries they needed to pick up on their next trip to Diagon Alley. He watched with horror as she brought he chalk to her lips and was about to place it inside of her mouth. It didn't take long for him to make a few strides in her direction and snatch it out of her hand.

"Are you out of your bloody mind?" He all but screeched, shoving the chalk harshly back on top of the chalkboard holder. "In case you have forgotten, chalk is for writing, _not_ for human consumption!"

Hermione blushed and looked down sheepishly, shrugging her shoulders. Her body had pushed her in that direction, craving the chalk. She didn't understand it herself, but Hermione knew that she had a strong desire to consume something with a chalk-like substance.

"Oh Merlin's bloody bleeding beard."

Ron smacked his palm against his forehead, eyes looking at Hermione in disbelief, head shaking wildly back and forth. His wife gave him a strange look, a silent prompt for an explanation for his behavior.

"The last time… the last time… oh… my… Hermione!"

"Ron, quit your babbling and spit it out! Your incessant mumbling is anything but attractive," Hermione reprimanded, hands placed firmly on either side of her hips.

"You really don't see it? You don't… put the pieces together! Mood swings… extreme hunger… _bizarre_ cravings…"

"I really do not see what you are getting at, _Ronald_, unless you are simply trying to _insult_ me!"

Leaning his back against the wall and crossing his arms over his chest, Ron pointed towards Hermione's abdomen.

"I'm one hundred percent sure you are with child."

At that statement, Hermione's mouth flew open and she crossed her hands instinctively over her flat stomach.

"Don't you _dare_ say something so ridiculous!" Anger coursed through her instantly, as if Ron was making false accusations to purposely upset her. The mood had been jovial all day and Hermione had no clue as to why her husband would go and say something like that to remind them of the not-so-distant past.

"I'm not just saying it, Hermione, you are!"

With an uncharacteristically childish stamp of her foot, Hermione spun on her heels, exiting the room in one swift fluid movement. There was just no way she could be pregnant again so soon. Sure, she had been taking exceptional care of her body, both mentally and physically, for the past couple of months. She had even been to the Healer to receive more information on fertility treatment in case it boiled down to that. She had tried to conceive, with Ron, but to no avail. What would make the sudden change? After all, the Healer had basically said that getting pregnant any sooner than a year from her miscarriage would be close to, if not, absolutely impossible. So how could Ron just say such a blatant statement, knowing all the information he did?

"You just tried to eat _chalk_. I don't know any witch, wizard of Muggle who would eat such a thing willingly, unless…" Ron continued, his voice trailing off and his hand waving once again at Hermione's abdomen.

"Unless nothing. I'm not, we're not, pregnant. It's too soon. You heard the Healer, so don't get your hopes up." Hermione's response was, per usual, rational. She showed no potential excitement, no mulling over Ron's prediction. She knew she was not pregnant and Ron should know that too.

"Take a test then. Prove me wrong."

"There's no need to."

They could both sense the tension in the air, the sudden change in mood. Hermione walked into the living room, grabbing a throw pillow and a blanket, lying down on the sofa. She didn't want to be in the same room as Ron. She didn't want to sleep next to him.

Ron was never one to give up easily. He followed her into the living room, taking a seat on the chair that was adjacent to where she made her makeshift bed.

"I'm not trying to upset you. I just… I really think… well if it's not _that_ then I think it is _something_ and you need to get yourself… checked out."

The only response elicited from Hermione was her exaggerated turn to face the side of the sofa, the one that didn't face him. She wrapped herself up snugly in the blanket, pulling it as close to her chin as possible.

"Sleep in our bedroom, at least. If you're that angry with me, I'll take the couch."

Ron hoped he wouldn't have to, but he would feel entirely too guilty having her sleep out here rather than him.

"I'm fine right here."

Leaning down, Ron gently peeled a corner of the blanket off of Hermione, revealing her face that had become wet with silently shed tears. Ron felt his heart ache at the sight, the beautiful brown eyes that had been glowing with happiness hours before turned so sad and forlorn. He mentally kicked himself for being so insensitive towards her feelings. Of course jokingly bringing up the subject, although the pun had relevance and truth behind it, would hurt her. He had never been exactly graceful when it came to other people's feelings, but whenever Ron hurt Hermione the guilt always felt tremendously worse.

"Please, don't cry," Ron hushed softly, the pad of his thumb rolling over Hermione's cheek, hurrying the tears away.

"I … I really want it to be true, Ron," Hermione whispered, her eyes locking into his. He noticed something different about her eyes. They were scared, frightened. After everything she had been through, Ron didn't really realize raw fear like this was still something Hermione collided with.

"I know you do. I do too, but we can't let our fear of disappointment come in the way with the health and care of you or any potential future Weasley."

In her heart, Hermione knew Ron was right. Especially given Hermione's condition, they had to start prenatal care as early as possible, if she was indeed pregnant. She tried to refuse allowing her mind to wander about the possibilities. Ginny would have her baby an then a few months after, Hermione would have hers. It would be perfection and bliss. However, if she wasn't and the thoughts mulling about in her head were crushed again, Hermione didn't know if she would have the strength to once again mend her broken spirit.

"I can't… go through… with that again," Hermione sputtered out, between sobs. Ron clutched her closer to him, his body rocking hers back and forth in an effort to calm her down. He played with a loose curl the way he knew she liked, the one thing he knew would always calm her down when she wasn't feeling up to par.

"You won't have to, Hermione. _We_ will, together. If it comes to that, we'll deal with it as it comes. But if we seriously want a family, we have to take the joys with the setbacks."

Ron kissed her on the cheek, taking one of her hands in his, squeezing, as if he could somehow virtually transmit his strength to her. "Let's make an appointment at St. Mungo's for tomorrow and see what they have to say."

Although she didn't want to, Hemione reluctantly agreed. The last thing she really wanted was to be poked and prodded with needles, but in the end, she knew a baby would make it all worth it.

"Okay," she finally conceded, resting her head against his. "Let's go to bed."

Ron stood up, placing his strong arms underneath her and carrying her into the bedroom. He was rewarded by a soft, half-hearted laugh from Hermione, as she swatted his arm.

"I can walk, you know."

Ron placed her on the bed and tucked her under the covers, pulling the blankets to her chin, just like he knew she liked. He gave her a kiss on the lips, pressing against them firmly, before sliding into his side of the bed and curling his body around hers, something that was second nature to him now.

"I love you, Ron."

"I love you too, baby."

"Happy Anniversary."

"Happy Anniversary."

* * *

Feedback from wonderful _readers like you_ would be very much appreciated.

Don't be review shy! I need to know if you guys like the direction this story is going in, what you would like to see more of, less of, etc.! I have a lot of story alerts for this, but not that many reviews, so if you want more, please let me know! I promise that if I get up to 60 reviews, I will update before this Friday! (I know, I know, I hate bribery too, but...)

x Muriel


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer:** I still don't own a thing. I don't own the characters, the plot, or the magic. If I had a mind as creative as that then I wouldn't be wasting my time writing fan fiction. I only play with the Wizarding World for awhile before handing it back to Rowling for safe keeping.

**Author's Note: **Thank you so much for the reviews! You guys are providing me with awesome feedback, so here is your chapter, before Friday, as promised! You reviewers are amazing and motivational and lovely. I'm not too sure about this chapter because I had severe writer's block and I was hoping that by typing it would disappear. Unfortunately, it wasn't so much the case, so if it's a little rough around the edges I apologize in advance! I love your feedback on whether or not you think Hermione should be pregnant or if it should be held off. Very interesting, diverse opinions. I guess you'll just have to find out in the _next_ chapter! Hope you all read, enjoy and review, in that order! ;)

* * *

**GARDEN OF EDEN**

**CHAPTER FIVE**

_"Oh, she can wait if she wants... she's ahead of her time..."_

Hermione and Ron were just on their way out the door heading to St. Mungo's for Hermione's Healer appointment, when a loud _pop_ stopped them dead in their tracks. George was standing in front of them looking disheveled. The older Weasley's shirt was haphazardly thrown on his torso, his hair uncombed and his eyes frantic. Ron took a step towards his brother, confusion at the sudden unannounced appearance written all over his face. Ron placed his hands out in front of him, palms up, lifting them, silently asking his brother what he was doing there.

"It's Gin, Ron. We need to go. She's at St. Mungo's now. C'mon, we need to go."

George's voice was full of urgency, his overly freckled hands waving at Ron and Hermione, begging them to follow his lead.

"What's wrong with Ginny?" Hermione asked, a slight shake to her voice.

"She's in labor! We have to get a move on!"

"Labor? Already?" Hermione worriedly counted the months her dear friend had been pregnant on her fingers. Ginny was just barely eight months along, which meant that the little bun in her oven wasn't quite fully cooked yet.

"Yes, now _please_, let's go!"

Ron placed a hand on the small of Hermione's back and gently guided her towards the flying car. He opened the door for his wife and slid into the driver's seat, as he signaled for his brother to join them.

"Driving? You're _driving_ at a time like this?" George didn't understand why the couple didn't just Apparate. It would be much faster. Their baby sister was in early labor and to George, that called for rapid action. He shook his head, signaling that he had different means of transportation, before he Apparated once more.

"We'll meet you there, then." Ron spoke to the disappearing George before putting the car in drive and racing off as fast as he could.

* * *

The waiting room was crowded with almost every single living member of the Weasley family. The ones that were absent were currently in the hospital room with Harry and Ginny, being ushered in two at a time by the hospital staff. When Hermione and Ron arrived, taking the only remaining empty seats in the lobby, they could feel the tension and stress in the air. The only member of the family who seemed unaffected to the chaos was Arthur Weasley. Instead of pacing back and forth, as Charlie and George had taken to doing, or cracking knuckles, which Bill and Percy had taken to doing, the elder Mr. Weasley was sitting calmly, flipping through a stack of Muggle magazines he had brought along with him from home.

It was odd to see everyone but him in such a state of distress. Mrs. Weasley and Fleur were in with the couple, but Hermione guaranteed that their faces bore the same unrecognizable apprehension as the rest of the clan. Seeing her father-in-law so mellow should have soothed Hermione, but instead it made her much more panicked. Hermione leaned over and subtly nudged Ron, nodding her head in Arthur's direction. Ron followed Hermione's gesture, gazing at his own father. He seemed to study the man for a moment before looking back at his wife and shrugging it off. If his father wasn't too concerned over the early labor then Ron was sure that the rest of them need not worry too much.

As if Mr. Weasley felt the sudden attention shed on him, he straightened in his seat and snapped the magazine shut. He had a kind smile on his face, his twinkling eyes focusing from his youngest son to his daughter-in-law.

"Nothing to be too worried about, everyone," Arthur addressed, softly clapping his hands together, his smile never fading. "Your Mum had Bill two months early and look how he turned out." Arthur winked at his eldest, as George scoffed.

"Bloody brilliant," Percy muttered softly, running a hand through his auburn hair, nervously kneading it.

"Ginny and Harry will be parents before the day is through, mark my words." Arthur continued, before once again opening his magazine and picking up where he left off.

Suddenly the doors to the waiting room swung open, Molly and Fleur both returning from their visit. Fleur found her way back to Bill, giving him a gentle kiss on the cheek, while Molly immediately went towards Ron and Hermione.

"Oh Ron, dear," Mrs. Weasley walked towards her son and eneveloped him in a bone-crushing hug, before turning to do the same to Hermione. "Why don't you two go in and see Harry and Ginny?"

Ron looked at Hermione, trying to study her face. He wasn't sure if she wanted to go in with him or if it would just stir up old memories that were very unpleasant for the couple. To Ron's surprise, Hermione beamed and nodded her head, quick to accept the offer.

"We would love to."

With that, Hermione took Ron's much larger hand in hers and made her way to room 304, where Ginny was laying rather uncomfortably on a flimsy mattress.

Hermione knocked on the door, signaling her presence, before walking in with Ron right behind her.

"Hey mate," Ron addressed, firmly shaking Harry's hand before dropping a kiss on the top of his sister's head.

"Gin, how are you feeling?"

Hermione immediately walked over to Ginny, trying to hug the younger girl as best she could while she was lying down.

"I would really appreciate it if everyone would bugger off and stop asking me that. I feel _fine_, I just want this," Ginny paused and pointed to her large stomach before continuing, "to be out of me."

Harry chuckled softly and looked at Hermione apologetically. "Sorry, she's not exactly in the best of moods…"

"And I would _really_ appreciate it, Harry, if you would stop making excuses for me!" Ginny interrupted, narrowing her eyes and glaring daggers at her husband.

"Are you having contractions already?"

"Yes, Ron, that's what labor is." Ginny responded hotly, wishing that everyone would just leave her alone and allow her to deliver her baby in peace without all the fretting.

"Well aren't you just a little ray of sunshine."

Ron backed away from the bed cautiously, as if the extra space would provide cushioning from any other nasty comment that might come out of his sister's mouth. Hermione shot him a look, silently praying that he would watch what he said.

"Did they give you any potion for the pain?" She asked kindly, her eyebrows knit with worry.

"No. They said it was too soon, but I'm sure they're lying. I mean, they're witches and wizards, for Merlin's sake. They must know some magic to make it stop hurting."

Harry sighed and grabbed one of Ginny's hands.

"Harry, would you mind getting me some soup from the cafeteria?"

"Soup? But you just said you weren't hungry when your Mum asked you."

"Well I changed my mind. So soup, please?"

Harry nodded and stood up, looking at Ron. "Want to join me?" Ron eagerly accepted the invitation, sensing his way out from any future wrath Ginny may inflict upon him.

"Do you need me to do anything for you?" Hermione asked, as soon as the two men had left the room. She walked over towards the other side of the room, where there was a pitcher of water and a small glass sitting on a bedside table. Without thinking, Hermione sprung into action, pouring the iced water into the glass cup and extending it to Ginny, who hesitantly accepted. Hermione moved over towards the bed and began to fluff Ginny's pillows, trying to make the mother-to-be as comfortable as possible under the circumstances.

"Are you cold? Warm? I can summon a blanket if you like, or a fan, whichever you would prefer."

"Hermione, stop, I'm fine!" Ginny scolded gently, trying not to hurt the girl's feelings, but completely fed up with her antics.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes. I wanted to get rid of _them_," Ginny pointed towards the door, annoyance laced heavily in her voice, "because I really wanted to speak with you alone." She finished softly, her voice trailing off to nothing more than a whisper.

"Oh?"

"Here, sit down."

Ginny scooted over a bit on her bed, making room for Hermione to sit. Ginny knew that out of everyone in her family, Hermione was as close to a sister as Ginny would ever get and Ginny needed her more than anyone right now. She cleared her throat, taking a slow sip of water, trying to figure out how she would say what she needed to without hurting Hermione's feelings.

"What is it, Ginny?" Hermione sat down, nibbling nervously on her bottom lip at the long pause of silence.

"Because I'm in premature labor the Healer said that there may be some… some complication, with the baby or with me. It isn't likely, but there's still a slight chance. I just… I just…" Ginny took a moment to compose herself, shutting her eyes and inhaling deeply. "If something happens to the baby, I don't know what I'll do." A single tear fell down the strong girl's face, leaving a track in its wake.

"You can't think like that. Everything will be fine." Hermione reached for Ginny's hand giving it a gentle squeeze. Her heart ached for Ginny and for herself at the impossible thought.

"But if anything should happen to me I need you to make sure this baby is brought up right. I know Harry will do a…"

Hermione stood up abruptly before Ginny could continue, anger all over her face. "Ginevra Potter you take that back right this instant! You will be fine, your baby will be fine, and you will be the best mother in the entire Wizarding World."

Ginny offered Hermione a watery smile, meeting Hermione's gaze before looking down at her hands. "I hope so."

"Well I know so and they _do_ say that I'm the brightest witch."

At that comment, Ginny rolled her eyes, before a sudden contraction hit her and she moaned in pain.

Hermione winced and stepped towards the door. "I'll go get you a Healer. Maybe they can give you something for it now."

"Great." Ginny muttered under her breath, as she was left alone in the room, experiencing the worst pain she had ever felt in her entire life.

At that very moment, Ginny Potter decided that she was done with having kids. After this one popped out, Ginny was closed for baby-making business permanently.

* * *

By the time Harry got back, his wife was very out of it. He had the soup in his hands, but when he tried to offer it to Ginny, she just laughed at him and told him that she didn't even like soup. It was a complete change from her mood when he had left her, only twenty minutes earlier, when she had been nearly spitting in his face in anger.

"Gin, are you alright?" Harry asked, concerned for his wife's mental state.

"Oh, she should be more than alright now. We gave her something for the pain," a Healer responded, coming in to place Ginny's charts back at the foot of the bed.

"I kind of can't feel my bottom half, Harry, it's the _most_ bizarre thing!"

"No more pain?"

"No! I just feel funny, like jelly"

Ginny attempted to move her body, but Harry's outstretched hand stopped her.

"Just relax. You are having a baby, you know."

"When? This kid decides to come early but then takes forever to actually show up!"

"Well, it is _your_ child." Harry smirked, dropping his hand on the top of her head and running his fingers through her locks of hair.

"Okay Mum and Dad, you ready?" A Healer appeared in the door, casting a spell in the air. Ginny's vitals appeared lit up at the tip of the Healer's wand and Harry tried his best to decipher what the numbers were truly saying. "Looks like we are good to go!" The Healer walked over to Ginny and helped her lift up the medical gown. Another spell was cast that held Ginny's legs apart, placing her in the perfect position to start giving birth.

"Okay Mrs. Potter, on the count of three you're going to push. One… two… three…"

* * *

"You guys can come in now, Ginny had the baby."

Harry appeared in the waiting room, his cheeks flushed pink and a weary expression on his face.

"Is Ginny okay?" Bill asked quickly, standing up from his seat.

"Yes. They're both doing fine."

Relief swept through the waiting room, as each Weasley face relaxed simultaneously.

"Ron, Hermione, if you wouldn't mind, Gin and I would like to have a word with you."

Hermione looked at Ron, who nodded his head. They followed their best friend down St. Mungo's hallway until they reached the room once again, only this time there was a little blue bundle of joy wrapped snugly against Ginny's chest.

"Ron, Hermione, we'd like you to meet your godson, James Sirius Potter."

Ginny reached out her hands to deposit the little baby from her arms into Hermione's, who held the fragile being with extreme care.

"G-godson?" Ron stuttered, his eyes lighting up at the thought.

"Yes, as long as it's okay with your two."

"It's more than okay. We'd be delighted to be James' godparents." Hermione whispered, trying not to wake the baby from his peaceful slumber. Her body naturally rocked in a soothing motion, as Ron's rough hands went to fix the little stocking cap on top of James' head.

Ron's finger brushed against the baby's cheek, then smoothed out the blanket, admiration all over his face. As he went to pull away, James' tiny fingers wrapped themselves around Ron's index finger, squeezing, not letting go.

"Look!" Ron said, tears coming to his eyes. Hermione smiled and reached up to give Ron a small kiss on the cheek.

"Harry, Ginny, he's beautiful," she said, mesmerized by the interaction between her husband and his nephew.

Ron hastily wiped at his eyes, embarrassed to be caught almost crying.

"Good work on creating a boy, Gin," Ron joked, as Hermione transferred the bundle back to his mother.

As Hermione and Ron gave the baby back, the entire Weasley family started to file in, all cooing over the sweet joy that Ginny and Harry had brought into the world.

"We're going to head out, but if you need us, you know where we are," Ron said. "Congratulations on becoming parents!"

Hermione waved bye and the two made their way back to their flat, each with a small smile on their face. They had the cutest godson they could ever ask for.

* * *

That night, as Ron and Hermione laid in bed trying to fall asleep, Hermione turned over to face Ron.

"I don't want to know."

"Hmm?"

Ron opened his eyes, confused at his wife's sudden choice of words.

"I don't want to know if I'm pregnant or not. Not yet. I don't want false hope or disappointment to consume us."

Ron cleared his throat, about to protest, but Hermione stopped him with a kiss. Seeing Ginny, Harry and James, a family unit of three, so blissful, made Hermione realize that perhaps she was trying too hard to become pregnant. She was taking all of the fun out of the process, taking the actual pleasure of motherhood out of the equation entirely. For right now, Hermione decided she could be satisfied with being a godmother, the best godmother to little baby James.

"If that's what you really want…" Ron started skeptically, his nose wrinkled in obvious disapproval.

"It is. There's James now, and he will need his Uncle Ron to teach him embarrassing things about his mother and father." Hermione laughed, snuggling closer to Ron, wrapping her arm around him.

"He'll need his Aunt Hermione to teach him how to be a smart little wizard."

"He'll need his Uncle Ron to teach him how to play Wizarding Chess so that he can beat his Uncle Percy."

"He'll need his Aunt Hermione to teach him how to be unconditionally kind."

"He'll need his Uncle Ron…"

The two continued, staying up most of the night talking about their nephew, excited for the Weasley family for the new addition. For the first time in a long time, Hermione and Ron were genuinely happy. They had their godson to focus on, to get their minds off of starting a family for themselves. For once, Hermione was at peace just knowing that when they were supposed to start a family, they would, and in the meantime they had their nieces and nephews to love to pieces.

* * *

Feedback from wonderful _readers like you_ would be very much appreciated.

Don't be review shy! I need to know if you guys like the direction this story is going in, what you would like to see more of, less of, etc.! I have a lot of story alerts for this, but not that many reviews, so if you want more, please let me know! (No more bribery this chapter, but just keep in mind that the more feedback I get the quicker I tend to update! ;) )

x Muriel


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer:** I still don't own a thing. I don't own the characters, the plot, or the magic. If I had a mind as creative as that then I wouldn't be wasting my time writing fan fiction. I only play with the Wizarding World for awhile before handing it back to Rowling for safe keeping.

**Author's Note: **I'd like to say a big thank you to those of you who have been reviewing. You guys are my inspiration to keep on chugging along. I'm sorry this chapter took so long to update but I had to edit it a lot to get it to something I could publish. A big thank you to **lust to dust** for being my beta for this chapter. I hope you guys are happy with the ending, I know most of you have been waiting for this moment for a long, long time! From here on out, the plot will progress a bit faster. Please stay tuned and keep doing what you're doing! Your reviews mean the world to me, honestly!

* * *

**CHAPTER SIX**

**SAFE AND SOUND**

"_Here's what I conclude… All I really need is you…"_

"Ron, we can't do _that_ tonight, we're babysitting!"

Hermione gently swatted her husband's hands away, immediately ceasing his loving caresses. She had been looking forward to this night all week. It had been three months since Ginny and Harry had their sweet baby boy and it was the first time since then that they were allowing anyone to watch their pride and joy. Hermione was more than flattered that the couple had picked her, along with Ron, to watch their son as they had a celebratory anniversary dinner. The young parents admitted that although having a child was a tremendous gift, it certainly put a damper on their romance. Hermione was more than happy to step in and lend a helping hand.

"Babysitting? That's _tonight_?" Ron asked, his voice rising in a slight panic as he propped himself up on their bed. "But Hermione…"

"Yes it's _tonight_, Ronald. Remember, we're watching him for your sister's wedding anniversary? The wedding you were the best man in five years ago? Ring any sort of bell?"

Hermione was half amused, half annoyed, as she cut off Ron's soft whine. How could Ron forget when Hermione had been excitedly preparing for this very moment for the past seven days? She even marked it on their calendar, placing James' name in bright blue ink, right where Ron would notice it every time he walked past the kitchen.

"I picked up a shift at work tonight, remember? The Department needed me because Shackington's wife wound up at St. Mungo's."

"Well just floo them and tell them you forgot you had _prior_ engagements."

Ron sighed heavily sitting himself upright on the bed. He ran a hand through his lengthy red hair, trying to come up with a proper solution. If he called himself out of work, his fellow Aurors would be furious and frantic at having to come up with a last minute replacement. If he left his wife and his three month old godson, it would take days to beg for Hermione's forgiveness. Ron tried to think of what Hermione would do if placed in such a situation. Surely she would choose to overachieve, to fill in and help out her fellow co-workers. There would be plenty more opportunities for Ron to watch his godson with his beloved wife, but there wouldn't be so many chances to impress the Department Head and Ron so desperately wanted a promotion.

"I'm sorry, but I have to go in tonight." Ron shot Hermione his best apologetic smile, hoping it would ease some of the turmoil that was soon to follow in the statement's wake.

"Ron, you can't!"

"I have to! I'm sorry, I really am, but I didn't plan on our best Auror to call out with a family emergency and we're right in the middle of an important case. They need me and I can't just abandon them."

"Like you're _abandoning_ me?" Hermione spat, tears clinging to her eyes as she furiously jumped off of the bed, her bushy hair flying wildly with the motion.

"You know it's not like that. I'd much rather be here with you and James tonight, but I can't be." Ron glanced worriedly at his wife's face, watching the familiar trace of her tear marks painting her cheeks. He didn't understand why she was being so irrational about this. It wasn't as if Ron was merely blowing it off to go out with some friends. He had a job to do and Hermione, being Hermione, should have understood that. He reached out towards her, his hand resting on her shoulder, giving it a slight squeeze.

"Why are you getting so upset about this?" Ron asked, trying to keep his own temper in check, trying to tune into his concern rather than his growing agitation.

"I'm not," Hermione snapped, walking out of the room and slamming the door behind her, an entirely childish gesture that Hermione usually prided herself in _not_ partaking in.

"Yes, you are."

"All you've been doing for the past three months is work, work, work! Ever since we found out I wasn't pregnant, you've thrown yourself into your job like it's… like it's your _mistress_ or something! You come home and we barely talk and then you wake up and leave for work! One night, Ron, that's all I asked for. I just wanted you here tonight so we could actually enjoy ourselves with our nephew. I'm terribly sorry that it was _too much_ to ask."

Ron felt his own blood boiling beneath his skin, his effort to keep himself calm going out the window. His hands were balled into tight fists by his side and the vein near his temple throbbed, as it always did, when he got too heated.

"Oh for Merlin's sake, Hermione, give it a rest. I'm making money, working my arse off for us. I'm putting in extra hours now so that when we do decide to have a family we will be financially secure. You should be happy. The more hours I put in the less you have to put in yourself. Not that you're doing too much working nowadays anyhow."

Ron's face was flushed in fluster, one of his fists slamming against the wall to alleviate some of his anger.

"What is _that_ supposed to mean?" Hermione tried not to jump to conclusions, but Ron was hitting her in a sore spot, knocking her when she was already down. She was already a failure of a wife, not able to reproduce to create a family. Now her husband was insinuating that she was a failure on the professional front as well?

"It means that one of us has to make money in this house and my career is just a bit more stable than yours."

Hermione swallowed the lump that was continuing to grow in her throat, hushed sobs attempting to escape. She had been working in the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, following her heart rather than her senses. Hermione had so desperately wanted to improve the lives of those who were disenfranchised that she hadn't been too concerned with pay or climbing the corporate ladder. But that didn't change the fact that Hermione Granger Weasley was a smart girl. She earned 11 OWLS, memorized nearly every spell in the history of the Wizarding World and could recall any bit of information on cue. Just because her career hadn't taken off as splendidly as Ron's had didn't mean she was a _failure_, even if she felt like one. Her new position at the Ministry was miniscule compared to Ron's and her job search was still on the prowl. Hermione hadn't found anything that clicked with her yet and she certainly wasn't about to pour her heart and soul into a futile career prospect.

"Get out."

Hermione's low growl startled Ron, snapping him out of his rage.

"Hermione –"

"Get _out_."

Ron's eyes widened at Hermione's fierce tone, the immense bite that was packed behind the words. He wanted to argue, to fight until they made up, but Ron just couldn't. He was too frustrated and she was too angry. Any reaction between the two of them now would be horrifyingly diabolic. Without whispering a word, Ron nodded his head and walked to the door of their flat, walking through the walkway and shutting the door firmly behind him. They both needed their space.

* * *

"_Mr. and Mrs. Weasley?" _

"_Yes?" Two pairs of hopeful eyes rose to greet the Healer who had entered the tiny cubicle at St. Mungo's._

"_I'm afraid I don't have any good news for you today."_

_The devastation in the room was palpable. The sudden mood shift left the room eerily quiet, despite all the chaos occurring in the emergency room's hallways. _

"_In fact, I'd like to talk to the two of you."_

_The Healer moved to stand in front of the couple, her eyes swimming with remorse for having to deliver bad news. It was never easy but it was her job._

"_Well…?" Ron asked impatiently, breaking the unbearable silence._

"_Hermione, you aren't pregnant and judging from the tests we conducted today… I'm very sorry Mrs. Weasley but it looks like you are physically unable to conceive on your own."_

_Horror was written all over Hermione's face, a hand going up to cup her mouth as her husband stood up to protest._

"_Run more tests, then. I'm sure that can't be right. We were pregnant once before. Re-run those tests."_

"_Mr. Weasley, please," The Healer held up a hand to placate him, sparing him a look of pity before returning her gaze to Hermione. She knew all too well that this kind of news generally affected females a lot worse than males. "The miscarriage was a result of Hermione's body not being able to carry a baby to full-term. Her body simply cannot handle supporting another being. There are plenty of options available to wizards and witches who would like to start a family. If you'd like I can go get you some literature on all of the potential possibilities."_

"_Why?" Hermione asked, her eyes meeting the Healer's for the first time since the news was broken._

"_We can't be sure, Mrs. Weasley, but these circumstances usually have something to do with physical trauma that was endured in the past."_

_Hermione knew exactly who made her unable to conceive and that knowledge was the worst kind of power to have. Fire burned through her veins, igniting emotions Hermione hadn't realized she possessed. She wanted to kill those people, those awful Death Eaters, those tormentors. They were gone, but the consequences of their actions would be suffered for many generations to come._

"_I think we'd like some time alone," Ron broke the silence, enveloping his wife in a tight embrace as the Healer nodded and backed out of the room, shutting the door, allowing them as much privacy as they wished. It was the least she could do._

The memory stung at Hermione as she mulled over the very moment she realized she would never be able to be a mother in the true sense of the word. She would have to use a surrogate or research other horrid methods of procreating in order to achieve a family, an act that was so simple for most people. Hermione couldn't bear the fact that she was infertile, that she wouldn't be able to bond with her baby while it was a fetus in her womb. Some mother she would be if she couldn't even protect it from the very start. Ron tried to push the options on her, to try to make her see that there could be a light in all this darkness. He even joked with her that at least she wouldn't get stretch marks or have to go through the endless pains of labor. Hermione would give anything to go through childbirth, but nothing she could give would allow her that god-given right.

She wanted to fall apart, to hate the world as much as it apparently hated her, but she couldn't. She had a little bouncing bundle to take care of. Harry and Ginny had dropped off James without questioning where Ron was. Ginny had been a bit hesitant to leave James with just one adult, but had relented after Harry's gentle persuasions.

Hermione sat in a rocking chair with James in her arms, studying his face, committing it to memory. His eyes were shut but Hermione knew that under his tiny pale eyelids were sparkling golden brown orbs, the eyes of his mother. Hermione wondered briefly if her children would have had her chocolate brown eyes or Ron's blue eyes. Hermione ran a gentle finger across James' cheek, marveling at the softness of the skin. On top of his head was a tiny tuft of jet black hair, the exact same color as the mop on top of his father's head. She leaned down and dropped a kiss on the baby boy's forehead, holding him close to her chest, soaking the moment in. Hermione couldn't help but let her mind wander, wondering if she would ever have such a moment with a baby of her own.

She fell asleep like that, holding James in her arms, until she woke up from a blood curdling cry. Hermione looked down, seeing James' eyes full of tears, his face all wrinkled from the effort of his cries.

"Shh, shh." Hermione stood up, bouncing James slightly in her arms, readying a bottle and placing it in his mouth. James didn't want it and his crying only intensified. She checked his diaper, which was still clean. She tried to burp him, but no air passed. She tried to play with him, to sing to him, to rock him, but nothing worked.

Hermione was losing her patience, ready to pull out her hair, when the front door opened and Ron walked in. His face was tired, his tie loosened. She could tell he was being cautious, trying to assess her mood before speaking. Before he had a chance to open his mouth, Hermione handed James to him frantically, her head shaking with the loss of what to do.

"Please, Ron, _please_ make him stop. I've tried _everything_."

Ron's brow furrowed with concern for the little guy. He held James up and pat the baby awkwardly on the back, not quite sure how to handle a crying baby himself. Hermione was much more skilled in that department and the fact that she couldn't comfort James enough to quiet him down spoke volumes.

"Did you try to feed him?"

"Yes, it didn't work. He didn't want to be fed, changed, sung to, played with, nothing is working!"

"Shh, calm down, Hermione. Babies feed off of your emotions, you know. If you're tense, James here will know and it'll upset him."

Hermione looked at Ron as if she didn't recognize him, her eyes shooting him a look of pure disbelief. Since when did Ron know the intricacies of how babies functioned? As if reading Hermione's mind, Ron blushed and ducked his head.

"I've been reading some books. It said that in there."

He rocked James in his arms, determined to relax the little fellow before his parents returned. It seemed to be working. The more Ron rocked, the sleepier the baby got, until eventually the cries stopped and James fell into a peaceful slumber.

"How…"

"Shh. We don't want to wake him up," Ron whispered, bringing James over to the portable crib and carefully depositing him inside.

Ron looked at Hermione and looked towards the bedroom, signaling her to follow him inside. He sat down on the bed and she followed suit, a bit uncomfortably as memories from their fight frolicked through her head.

"I'm sorry about before, Hermione."

"Me too," she whispered, wringing her hands together. Ron placed a hand on top of hers, to stop the nervous habit.

"I need to work but I need to spend time with you. Sometimes it's hard to find a balance."

Hermione chuckled softly and nodded her head understandingly. "I can relate to that."

Ron reflected on all their years at Hogwarts, at how Hermione had always overextended herself but still managed to pull through for him and Harry.

"You never seemed to have that trouble," he smirked, causing his wife to scoff.

"It was hard to pull it all off, believe me. I shouldn't have heckled you so much. You were just doing your job."

"Don't worry about it."

Hermione looked up and smiled at him, reaching over to drop a kiss on his freckled cheek.

"There's something I need to tell you, Ron."

"Sure, you can always tell me anything."

"I went to the…"

Before Hermione could finish, she heard the distinct sound of the fireplace swirling and heard two familiar voices inside of her living room.

"Hermione? Ron?"

Harry called out their names as Ginny picked up their baby, showering him with kisses as if spending time apart from him had been the most insufferable experience she had ever gone through.

Ron kissed Hermione and put his finger out. "Hold that thought."

He walked out with Hermione on his heels, nodding at Harry and Ginny as a welcoming.

"How was he? Not too cranky, I hope."

"Not too bad. We were able to whip the little bugger into shape," Ron joked, nudging his sister playfully in the ribs. Ginny rolled her eyes and handed Harry the bundle in her arms, before excitedly wrapping her hands around her stomach.

"I have news for you. Harry and I, we are having another baby. We just found out." It looked like Ginny had been trying to contain herself but her excitement had gotten the better of her and the news just sort of bubbled out. She bit her lip nervously, unsure of herself, wondering if telling them so abruptly had been the right decision.

"Another one? Isn't it a bit soon, Ginny? You're going to end up like Mum and have more offspring than you can account for!"

Ginny hit Ron jokingly, looking up at Harry, who seemed to be completely content with the news.

"Well congratulations are in order… again!"

Hermione spoke, doing her best to keep chipper at the news.

"I'd still like a wizard, Gin. Don't disappoint me." Ron requested, winking at the couple before wrapping his arms around Hermione, pulling her tight into his side.

"Well we better get going, it's getting late. Thanks again, Hermione, you're a lifesaver," Ginny whispered, beaming at the older woman.

Harry carefully tucked the blankets around James, shouldering him from the cooler weather that would hit them as soon as they flooed home.

"Have a good night," Hermione called after them, as the family unit disappeared through the flames.

"Now, what was it that you wanted to tell me?"

"_I can't be…" Hermione had taken the home pregnancy test, her wand reflecting a positive result. She had missed her period by a month which was unusual for her, now that her hormones had balanced out once again._

_Trying not to get her hopes up, Hermione went to her Healer and demanded an explanation and a series of tests. All tests came back positive._

"_Mrs. Weasley, you have a miracle baby in there," the Healer joked, handing Hermione a potion for prenatal care._

"_I… I'm really…"_

"_Six and a half weeks. Congratulations."_

"_So I'm…."_

"_Having a baby, Mrs. Weasley, yes."_

"_Will there be any…complications?" Hermione dreaded the answer, scared beyond belief._

"_While we can't tell anything for certain, the baby seems to be in perfectly good health."_

"_So I'm going to be a mother." Hermione was still in ecstatic disbelief, as if someone would rip her out of her dream at any moment._

"_Yes you are. Why don't we schedule you to come back in a week and we can run some more tests and make sure you and your little one receive all the care you will need."_

"_Of course." Hermione wrapped her arms around her belly protectively, her eyes shutting, her face glowing with happiness. She was finally going to become a mother and Ron was finally going to become a father._

Hermione shook herself out of the memory and cleared her throat. She didn't want to take the thunder away from Ginny and she wasn't sure she was ready to tell Ron yet. On the off chance that something awful did occur, Hermione didn't want Ron to have to shoulder the brunt of the devastation as he had before.

"Oh, that? It was nothing."

Hermione wrapped her arms around her husband's neck, reaching up to kiss him passionately on the lips.

"Are you ready to be an uncle once again, Mr. Weasley?"

"Only if you're ready to be an aunt once again, Mrs. Weasley."

The two locked their answers with a second kiss and Ron pulled away, eyeing Hermione suspiciously.

"Are you sure you're okay?"

She knew he was referring to Ginny's second pregnancy and she knew Ron mustn't have thought it was fair for his sister to be blessed with two children while he was refused just one.

"I've never been better."

Ron shook his head and laughed. "If you say so."

"I say so."

Hermione intertwined her fingers with his and shot him a seductive look. "How about we pick up where we left off earlier?"

Ron grinned eagerly and nipped at Hermione's neck. He eyed her carefully as she led the way to their bedroom, her hand on her lower abdomen the entire time. He wanted to question it, to ask if she was hurting, but before he could say a thing, Hermione had wrapped her legs around him and he was full of newly inspired passion. For the time being, the baby would be Hermione's little secret, her treasure, to keep safe and sound.

* * *

Feedback from wonderful _readers like you_ would be very much appreciated.

So there it is! Hermione and Ron are finally pregnant (for good this time, I pinky swear!)

Don't be review shy! I appreciate reviews so much. You have no idea. None. They're better than opening presents on Christmas.

_If_ I get to 100 (total) reviews by this Friday, I promise I will update this Friday night.

x Muriel


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer:** I still don't own a thing. I don't own the characters, the plot, or the magic. If I had a mind as creative as that then I wouldn't be wasting my time writing fan fiction. I only play with the Wizarding World for awhile before handing it back to Rowling for safe keeping.

**Author's Note: **First and foremost, I would like to thank you all for your continued support on this story. I remember when I first published it, I was fairly nervous as to how it would be received by the fanfiction community. But you readers have been nothing but awesome and encouraging from the very start! Your reviews are _so_ very much appreciated! Thank you!

Another thank you to **lust to dust** for being my beta for this chapter. Couldn't have done it without you. :)

Please enjoy! Reviews, as always, are accepted in any form: short, long, constructive, sweet, you name it, I take it! ;)

* * *

**CHAPTER SEVEN**

**HONESTY**

"_Is hardly ever heard… And mostly what I need from you…"_

_TWO MONTHS_

Ron rapped his knuckles against the bathroom door for the fourth time in a week. Once again his wife had locked herself inside and he could hear the strange yet uncomfortably familiar sound of Hermione throwing up. Every time he heard it, Ron outwardly cringed, the worry for Hermione burning in the pit of his stomach. Every time he would confront her, she would brush it off with some wild excuse. Ron had heard it all by now, from Hermione claiming she ate something rotten to her snapping at him proclaiming it was just her time of the month. The end result of each bout of sickness had been the same: Ron would openly fret over his wife and Hermione would jump down his throat, ordering him to bugger off.

This time Ron was not going to take _"leave me alone" _or _"it's just the flu_" for an answer. He was honestly troubled by the girl's sudden onset of sickness that she couldn't seem to shake. It was his job, as her husband, to see to it that she was well taken care of, whether Hermione liked it or not.

Bracing himself for the inevitable, Ron muttered a spell under his breath, unlocking the door. He twisted the brass doorknob to reveal his wife, her face as pale as a ghost's, curled up around the toilet, her back heaving. Even through her sick up, Hermione spared a glare in Ron's direction, her eyes showing off how irate she was at her husband's rude invasion of her privacy.

"_Ron_," Hermione croaked out, before once again emptying the contents of her stomach inside of the toilet bowl.

"Merlin, Hermione, how many times have you thrown up today?"

Ron's nose squished in slight involuntary disgust as the smell of vomit wafted through the air. With a wave of his wand and a few soft mumbles, the mess and the stench vanished, the bathroom once again sparkling clean. Hermione had always taken to the Muggle way of doing housework, but desperate times called for desperate measures.

"I don't keep track of it, _Ronald_," she bit back, her head resting itself on the wall lined with linoleum, her body seeking comfort from the cool tiling.

Trying his best not to take offense to her bitter remark, Ron placed one hand on her back, the other on her forehead. He knew he could just wave his wand to check for a fever, but Ron wanted to do it the Muggle way, the more intimate way. He wanted to show his wife he cared for her, regardless of her current annoyance towards him.

Her forehead didn't seem warm; in fact, it felt cool, which shocked Ron. Before he could take his hand away, Hermione was swatting at it, batting it with her own hand, irritation all over her face.

"Honestly will you stop that, Ron! Just… just leave me alone. I'll be out in a minute."

"No."

Hermione was fully expecting her husband to give in, as he had been recently doing every morning she was sick. A look of surprise crossed her face but she composed herself quickly and stood up, to stand her ground.

"Excuse me?" Her hands wormed their way onto her hips, her eyes narrowing in a most dangerous way, tendrils of her bushy hair flying out from the tie that she had wrapped around them.

Ron concealed a smile, hiding it behind a stern frown, as he recognized how similar she looked to her older, more youthful self. The twenty-six year old woman was suddenly replaced by a twelve year old child, who stared disapprovingly at Ron as he talked with his mouth full, or made an insulting comment in the Gryffindor common room. It took all of Ron's strength to not take the girl in his arms, squeezing her to pieces, for the comfortingly familiar endearing gestures she was recreating. Love for the woman crashed over him, overwhelming him, causing his eyes to fill with unshed tears.

Hermione noticed her husband's change in demeanor and widened her eyes with worry. Her previously hardened facial features softened as her gentle hand went up to cup Ron's cheek.

"What? What's the matter?" She whispered, afraid that if she spoke any louder the spell would be broken.

"Nothing. Just… I love you, Hermione Jean Granger."

Hermione felt a faint blush crawl up her cheeks at her husband's words, full of romance, full of love. It was rare for Ron to display such raw emotion, even in Hermione's presence. Her cheeks beamed radiantly as a smile tugged on her lips.

"Hermione Jean Granger _Weasley_," she corrected, running a hand through his unruly hair.

"Hermione Jean Granger _Weasley_," Ron repeated, emphasizing their shared last name.

"I love you too, Ronald Bilius Weasley."

It was Ron's turn to blush a dull shade of red, his eyes dancing with happiness. He didn't want to ruin the moment now by bringing up his wife's sickness. Instead he gave her a kiss on her cheek and stood up, the smile never fading from his face.

"I'll go make us some breakfast," he announced, as he turned to exit the bathroom.

"Pancakes?"

"Absolutely."

"Chocolate chip pancakes?"

"As you wish."

Hermione let out a soft laugh and closed her eyes, noting how perfect everything was. Despite her terrible morning sickness and the looming fear that something would go wrong with her pregnancy, Hermione was the happiest she had ever been in her entire life. Ronald and Hermione Weasley would have the perfect family, full of love, she was positively sure of it. All Hermione had to do was actually tell him, to let Ron in on the secret that there was a tiny bean growing in her stomach, one that they had dually created.

* * *

Hermione stood outside of the Potter residence alone, knocking on the door hastily. She had received an owl from Ginny requesting that she come over there as soon as she received it. It was an emergency, Ginny had written in a quick messy scrawl, so different from the normal polite cursive the girl usually used. Hermione's overactive imagination had been springing up all sorts of terrifying scenarios, forcing Hermione's limbs to work in overdrive as she made her way over to the house.

Harry opened the door, his face registering shock as he took a look at his best female friend. She was donned in pajamas that were two times her size, Ron's, no doubt. Her hair was frizzy, mussed and _everywhere_. It was the first time in awhile Harry had seen it so uncontained. Her feet were clad in slippers and she wore no drop of makeup. Bags were under her eyes, her face mirroring exhaustion, and Harry was already jumping to all sorts of terrible conclusions as to the reason behind the sudden visit.

"Hermione? Everything, er, everything alright?"

"I don't know! You tell me!" Hermione's arms flew in the air in frustration as she pushed past Harry and entered the cluttered house. Her eyes scanned for Ginny as she made her way through the living room into the kitchen and up towards the stairs.

"Ginny?" Hermione called out for her sister-in-law, a slight panic building as she got no reply in return from the normally fiery redhead.

"Hermione, _shh_!" Harry scolded, resting a finger on his lips. "James just went down for a nap. Ginny's not here she went out shopping to get a few things. What's going on?"

"She's not… She's… Are you joking?" Hermione's agitation towards the girl grew, wondering how she could just send off a letter as desperate as that and not even have the decency to be there when Hermione arrived. "That bloody little… _witch_!" Hermione cursed, her hormones raging in a way the pregnant girl could not restrain. She looked down at the letter in her hands, ripping it into tiny shreds, taking her anger out on the paper as a fine substitute for Ginny.

"Would you like to tell me what…"

"No I would not like to tell you, _anything_, Harry." Hermione turned to leave, shoving the shreds of paper in her pockets, but Harry caught her arm in his hand.

"You can't just waltz in here, looking like _that_, and expect me not to be concerned with you."

"Looking like _what?_" She seethed, pinning him with one of the sternest looks she could muster.

"C'mon, let's sit down." Harry guided Hermione over to the kitchen table, pulling out a seat and urging her to sit. Hermione followed the instruction, simply because her blinding fury wouldn't allow her to do much else.

"What's going on with you?" Harry asked, his green eyes piercing Hermione with guilt.

"Nothing, I'm fine. It's just Ginny sent an owl over saying she needed me and…"

Harry tried to stifle a soft laugh but was largely unsuccessful. Hermione's head snapped up in anger, once again pinning Harry with a cold stare.

"Mind telling me what's so funny?"

"Ginny was upset. We got into a bit of a row and she wanted some female loyalty to back her up. You know how girls can get when they're pregnant. I'm sorry you had to come all this way. She's just very… hormonal… these days."

"Of course she is," Hermione replied hotly, her face still glowing in anger.

"I'll tell her you came over, anyways. I'm sure she'll appreciate the gesture."

Hermione nodded sharply, her head bobbing just once before she crossed her arms over her chest.

"You've got Ron pretty worked up over you. He told me yesterday at work that you've been getting sick lately. Have you thought about going to a Healer?"

"I'm not _sick_, Harry." Hermione's anger was suddenly replaced with tears as they clouded her eyes and raced down her cheeks. She tried to contain herself but sobs began to escape and the more she tried to stop them, the louder she got.

"You're not sick…?" Harry cut himself off at the sound of the girl's cries and he shot her a look of pure bewilderment. One minute she wanted Ginny's head and the next she was a complete emotional wreck. What was going on with the girl? He was acting strangely like Ginny was these past few weeks, but Ginny was… Oh _Merlin_.

Harry stood up from his chair and placed his arms around Hermione, offering her comfort. He hadn't offered her physical comfort in a long time, mainly because she hadn't needed it, and when she did, she had Ron. Usually it was Harry who had been the recipient of solace from his friends. It felt peculiar to have one of the strongest women he knew crying in his arms, but he knew she needed the release.

"Hermione? Are you, uh, pregnant?" Harry knew the topic of pregnancy was still a very sensitive subject for Hermione but he had to know. It was the only real logical explanation for her turmoil of emotions and her constant stomach upset.

"Y-yes," she sputtered out, wrapping a hand in Harry's shirt, burying herself deeper into her friend at the admission.

"Haven't you told Ron?"

"No! I can't." Hermione pulled away suddenly to look at Harry, her face full of fear. "You can't tell him yet. Promise me."

"Hermione you have to tell him. He's the father, he's your husband, he deserves to know and share this happiness with you."

"I can't." Hermione repeated, more firmly this time, earning her an incredulous scoff from her friend.

"And why not?"

"Because… what if… "

Harry cut her off before she could mutter the words they both knew she had been mulling over for some time.

"Hermione, after hanging around me for so long I would have thought you'd have realized that you can't live in fear of the _what ifs_."

She sniffled and slowly nodded her head, knowing deep within her that Harry was right. However, that didn't make it any easier to tell her husband. The last thing she wanted to do was ultimately be a complete disappointment to Ron.

"He loves you, Hermione. He'll love that baby. Everything will work out."

She gave a watery smile to her friend in response and stood up, glancing towards the door.

"I suppose you're right."

Harry gave her a grin and gently clapped a hand on her shoulder, petting it encouragingly.

"Go on home and break the news. The two of you deserve a celebration."

Hermione leaned over to give Harry a quick friendly kiss on the cheek before making her way to the door.

"Let me know how it works out," Harry said in her wake, as the door shut behind the girl.

Hermione knew what she had to do and for the first time since she received the news, she felt ready to share.

* * *

Hermione sat on the porch anxiously awaiting her husband's arrival. He was at work, doing his normal shift, and was scheduled to arrive home at any time now. She had wracked her brain trying to come up with clever and thoughtful ways to announce the pregnancy to Ron. Being such a witty witch, creativity should have flowed a lot more freely throughout her veins than it did. She tried to think up a decent way to tell Ron the news, but the only ideas she came up with were so clichéd that Hermione was almost embarrassed to indulge in them. As Ron's arrival grew more imminent, Hermione made due with what she had and set about to wait for Ron, anxiety over his impending reaction nearly overwhelming her.

"Er, Hermione?"

The voice pulled Hermione out of her own thoughts abruptly. She offered him the tiniest of smiles before waving her hand in his direction.

"Everything alright?"

"Of course," she stated simply, opening the door for him.

Ron entered the flat, the aroma of freshly baked bread and a nice home cooked meal satisfying his nostrils. He turned around to see the table set nicely, the china Hermione reserved for rare occasions being used. Ron turned to Hermione, cocking his eyebrow in her direction, but sat down at the table.

"Here, let me just get the rest of the food."

Hermione headed into the kitchen, grabbing the steaming hot plates of food and carrying them out, placing one in front of Ron and one in front of her own spot.

"This looks delicious, Hermione, but you really didn't have to go through all the trouble."

"Oh, it was no big deal."

Hermione paused as she watched Ron grab his fork and begin stuffing his mouth with the various vegetables she had so intricately picked out for the evening. Her nose scrunched at his repulsive eating habits, the ones he would never outgrow, and she cleared her throat, causing him to stop chewing the food overfilling his mouth.

"Whaf's wrong?" Ron sputtered in between bites.

"Oh, nothing. I just… did you notice the baby carrots I used?"

Ron looked down at his plate and nodded his head, smiling at his wife. "Yes, they're great."

"And the baby spinach?"

Ron's brow furrowed but he nodded again, the smile remaining on his face.

"And the baby peas? And the baby back ribs?"

Shoving another forkful inside of his mouth, Ron shot Hermione a quizzical look, wondering just what she was getting at. If she was fishing for compliments, Ron was more than happy to oblige. After all, if she was going to work so hard on making such a big meal the very least he could do was shower her with appreciation for the gesture.

"Yes, everything is delicious, Hermione. Nicely done! You are the best little cook in the entire world, and I mean that!" Ron beamed, perfectly content on going back to stuffing his face. He was so busy eating that he hadn't even realized Hermione hadn't even picked up her fork and that irritation was scrawled all over her face.

"Well, excuse me, I forgot something," Hermione stood up, waiting only long enough for Ron's head to come up to acknowledge her statement. "There's a bun… in the oven…" Hermione played with the phrase, trying to get the light to don inside of Ron's dense head. It came to absolutely no avail, however. Instead, he took a swig of his milk, and extended his hand towards the kitchen entrance.

"Well, you don't want it to burn," he finally responded, to get his wife to stop staring at him so uncomfortably. She was acting decidedly strange, but Ron couldn't put his finger on what was so off about her.

Hermione stomped off into the kitchen, opening the oven and pulling out the bread, frustrated that her plan wasn't working. She knew with Ron that she should have been more direct. Sometimes he needed a good push in the right direction before he fully comprehended things. Why should this news be any different? Hermione was torn between wanting to laugh at the silly attempt to share the news cutely and wanting to pull her hair out at her husband's denseness. Placing the bread on top of the stove, Hermione lifted her shift and tucked the hem underneath the underwire of her bra. She grabbed a marker and carefully wrote, "We're pregnant!" on her abdomen. If this didn't get his attention, Hermione was at a complete loss of what to do!

She picked up the bread once more, keeping it in front of her, hiding the message as she walked back into the dining room.

"Here's a _bun_ for you…" Hermione stressed, leaning down and placing a roll on Ron's plate. "From…?" She prompted, trying one last time to get Ron to piece the puzzle together.

"From… the oven?" He asked with uncertainty, briefly thanking Hermione as he took a bite out of the roll.

"Merlin, Ron, are you really _that_ thick?" Hermione angrily grabbed the bread out of Ron's hands and placed it back on his plate, lowering the platter so Ron could read what her stomach said for her.

"We're having a baby, Ronald."

Ron's eyes glossed over the words, his eyes bulging, a smile gradually spreading onto his face.

"We… We are… Are you sure?"

Hermione nodded her head, reaching into her back pocket to show Ron the verified test results she had received from the Healer a few days before.

Silent tears rolled down Ron's cheeks as he looked over the paper, the one little word that would change his life forever. He stood up, grabbed Hermione around the waist, and picked her up, showering her body with kisses.

"I'm going to be a dad," Ron whispered softly, in disbelief, as he placed Hermione back down on her own two feet.

"You're going to be the _best_ dad," Hermione responded, pecking him on the cheek.

"Thank you, Hermione."

"No, thank you."

Hermione closed her eyes and realized this is what bliss was. She never wanted to shake free from this feeling.

* * *

Feedback from wonderful _readers like you_ would be very much appreciated.

Don't be review shy! I appreciate reviews so much. You have no idea. None. They're better than opening presents on Christmas.

_If_ I get to 115 (total) reviews by this Friday, I promise I will update this Friday night.

Otherwise, look for an update somewhere between next Saturday and Sunday!

x Muriel


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